The New Management
by Pluma Desatada
Summary: Three months after conquering Earth (or a piece of it at least), Loki finds himself spread thin between leading seven billion unruly mortals, crushing the the Resistance (led by Fury and Captain America), and secretly preparing for war against an invading army (led by Thanos). Time to use his ace in the hole to help deal with all three: his prisoner, Iron Man. :: FROSTIRON ::
1. A Plea for Aid

**Chapter Title: **A Plea for Aid

**Chapter Rating**: K+, mostly.

**Chapter Length: **5k/150k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **non-consensual drug-use.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki's fed up with human bullshit. Can't they all see he is trying to help, puny mortals?

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

In the Oval Office, in the White House in Washington D.C., Loki sighed.

It was the third time in the space of five minutes. The junior politician in front of him, who had just given him the latest report, showed no reaction only by virtue of being an idiot, where he should have been quaking in his boots.

So what If Loki had been ruling this continent for a while? Humans were both unruly and surprisingly defiant. The more he squashed, the stronger they pushed back. The landmass across the oceans still hadn't been conquered, and to make matters worse, they had somehow become allied with the resistance force he was trying so hard to exterminate.

And those that were subjecting themselves to his rule willingly? Idiots. The lot of them. Loki had to deal with their daily idiocy in the form of paperwork. The bees had suddenly disappeared and now they couldn't pollinate their crops? Well, leave it to Loki to sort it out. And he couldn't delegate day-to-day ruling to because they were useless. Bureaucrats had zero initiative — they were just as mindless as a Chitauri stranded from the hivemind.

Fuck them, he thought, crushing the paper in his hands in anger. 'Why did I even come here. Should have picked Vanaheim.' He rubbed his temples to try to ease his headache, but it wasn't working. What he needed was a spokesperson assistant. Someone who could work with him and not need every wish of Loki's to be spelled out, and who held enough power over humans that they would be happy to work with him.

And he knew just the man.

* * *

Tony Stark — ex-billionaire, ex-playboy, ex-philanthropist, but still a genius, at least for however long his sanity lasted — had kept himself busy contemplating how everything had gone to shit in so little time

One moment, he'd been on top of the world, a billionaire with everything in his grasp. The next? In a cell, left to contemplate... well. How everything had gone to shit. He sighed, not even knowing how many days had passed by now. He'd taken to finding whatever lay around his cell that could make a mark and jotting down equations on the walls, if only just so he didn't forget them and to have something to do. Idle hands also weren't his thing.

He was in the middle of reciting one of the calibrations for a Mark VIII stabilizer when he heard footsteps, too absorbed to notice his visitor right away. It was probably one of Loki's mind-controlled goons bringing him his bi-daily dose of porridge anyway.

Loki walked into Stark's cell with a bottle of scotch and two glasses, taking in the room he was seeing for the first time.

Windowless walls covered floor-to-whatever-height-Stark-could-reach in hermetic scribbles and equations; a hole in the floor in a corner, the cement around it stained the typical brown-and-yellow of bodily waste; a plastic tray with no spoon and an empty bowl, evidently licked clean. Finally, Loki's eyes settled on the man himself, pale and thin and unkempt, mumbling steadily to himself curled up on the thin, uncomfortable-looking mattress on the floor.

Oops. It seemed Loki had pushed Stark out of his mind too quickly and forgotten to tell his captors to treat him as befitted a captured general of an enemy army.

Clucking his tongue in disgust, Loki unceremoniously freed the man from his chains with a wave of his hand. "Care for a drink?" he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, and swished the bottle of scotch he had nicked from Stark's own home to get his attention.

It worked like a charm; the man perked up at that and saw the offer of scotch. Tony Stark, while prideful at the best of times, couldn't help but scoot over to the man who'd captured him. "Wow. What's the special occasion?" he asked in the same tone he might've asked anyone he met on the street.

Loki felt relieved, but was careful not to show it too obviously.

'So the human isn't going to fight me on principle,' he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wry little smile. 'Good to know some time in a cell will mellow out even the more recalcitrant of people, not just me.'

He casually poured a measure of the drink in one glass, then thought better of it and poured out half of that in the other one. "Apologies. I know I have not been the best of hosts," he said, passing the tumbler with less drink to Stark. It had been weeks since he had had the man tossed into this cell, and he had certainly not ordered the minions to bring him drinks. Or medical attention for the withdrawal symptoms he had surely suffered. He regretted that now. "Would you care for some ice with that?"

Tony licked his lips. He was, indeed, not in the best of shapes. Dark hollows around his eyes, hair more unkempt than usual... He was without all the facilities and primping he'd been privy to in his previous life, and the mere sight of the glass of scotch had nearly broken him.

To go cold turkey from his drinks, just like that? That'd been one of the worst things. The second, not even knowing what happened to everyone else beyond his cell.

But he was still trying to keep his old snark in place, up until the glass was offered. Reaching out and snatching the glass with trembling hands without answering Loki's question, he tossed the thing back without a care, almost choking on it. He swiped at his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, clutching the glass. "S–so... you didn't answer my question," he huffed unsteadily. "What's the special occassion, R–Reindeer Games...?" Could he even say that? He didn't even know anymore.

To lie or not to lie? A question he had been asking himself since time immemorial. He felt incredible pity for the mortal who had once stood with his head so high. Fuck. Was there anything in creation that didn't turn to shit when Loki touched it?

He hoped the narcotic he had put in the scotch would work fast, and also that the dose hadn't been too high. He had cut back upon seeing how weak Stark was, but he dearly hoped it didn't kill him anyway. "The occasion is that I need your help, Anthony Stark, and I will get it." He would take the man to a better room, more befitting his guest of honour. And maybe he could begin setting all his wrongs to rights.

The human hummed, his head feeling a little lighter. Weird. Tony sat on the ground, looking up at the prim and proper god, thinking, 'What an ass, look how clean he is,' blinking more slowly the longer he stared. "My help? Pfft, what the hell kind of help could I offer you...? Sorry buddy, I don't think..." he trailed off. 'Whoa, dizzy spell,' he thought, his hand rising reflexively as if to grab onto whatever he could. 'Oookay, that was weird'. Tony blinked down lazily at the bottom of his glass as if he might find something interesting in there. "You're out of shit... luck.." Oh God, but his body was becoming heavy and — oh! Hello ground!

Loki scrambled to catch him before the weakened mortal could fall on his face and break it. "Apologies again, Stark, but I feared you would start being difficult if I told you what I have planned for you," he crooned, tapping the mortal's nose and winking. He waited until the man was fully unresponsive before picking him up — he weighed next to nothing, and slumped over Loki like a sleeping child — and using a portal to take him to what had been Stark Tower and was now Loki's home away from home.

Loki had taken Stark's bedroom for his own, but he hadn't had the chance to use it last night and the bed was made and had fresh sheets, so Loki deposited him on it and combed the sleeping man's fringe out of his eyes gently. He then stood up. "Jarvis, I trust you have arranged a medical examination for Anthony?"

Jarvis, the construct — he had called himself an Artificial Intelligence, but Loki called it as he saw it — who ran the building, had been very helpful once Loki had explained his intentions and assured him Stark was alive and safe, way back when he had first taken Stark's building as his prize. He and Loki had become fast, if not friends, at least allies, and the AI had been utterly delighted to hear Loki was bringing Stark back into his care. "I have, Loki," he replied. "Shall I arrange for food as well?"

Oh, yes, that would be lovely. "Please do. What would I do without you, Jarvis?" Loki said wistfully as he left the room. He would have loved to stay and wait in the living room until Stark woke up so they could talk things over a meal, but the little light in his mobile phone told him he had some messages. When he unlocked the screen, he saw four emails, thirteen texts and two missed calls. With a sigh, he teleported back to the White House.

Time to deal with peasants again.

* * *

When Tony awoke, it was with a bleary recollection of... well, nothing. Except for the cell, and the usually familiar crick in his back when he woke up from sleeping on the floor. Only, he didn't feel the floor.

Brown eyes flying open, Tony sat up. It was night time outside the... window of his room? Overlooking Manhattan?

Tony patted himself. There was a bandage over his left arm — not just a bad dream, then — and his clothes had been changed into a pressed longsleeve, with the left arm rolled up to make room for the bandages, and nice pants. They probably wanted to make Tony presentable for the new leader of Earth, whoever they were.

"What... the..."

"Good afternoon, Sir. I'm glad to see you've finally woken. May I direct your attention to the nightstand?" the AI quipped from the ceiling. "I've ordered for the finest dishes from the Italian restaurant you always enjoyed, Sir. Unless you would have something else?"

So familiar.

Tony scrubbed at his hair, feeling fresh and clean and... like nothing had ever happened. "Jarvis...? Am I dead?"

"Far from it, Sir. In fact, the medical team have assessed that, despite the state of your malnutrition, everything else seems to be in a right order."

The once-billionaire groaned and moved to stand slowly, as much as he would have loved to stay in the heavenly plush feeling of his sheets... But this was real. And he knew who was behind this all now. But why bring him here? Why bring him out of his cell at all?

After the initial shock of being back, the hunger set in with a fervor, and Tony took the food with him to the couch. He ate and watched TV and ate some more. He was pretty sure he was going to throw it all up sooner or later by how fast he was eating, but he didn't care. A tear even slipped down his cheek once, Tony hunched over his long-empty tray and cradling it in his lap, watching cartoons. He laughed with reckless abandon at even the smallest of jokes, just enjoying the moment.

There was even scotch!

The rest of his afternoon and evening turned out wonderful. Tony had begun exploring his old 'home' — although it wasn't his anymore, was it? He spent a few good minutes just touching this and that just to affirm that everything was real. That he was really here. That he was somehow back outside the world beyond his walls.

Tony feeling lighter than he'd had in weeks — months? He didn't know anymore.

* * *

Loki felt his mobile buzz in his jacket and paused the conference with the UN secretary by raising his hand while he glanced at his messages. 'Sir is awake and kicking,' one said, no signature needed. Loki smiled sweetly down at it and replied, 'Please make sure he eats something. Pamper him.' before returning to discussing for what felt like the millionth time his forceful takeover and why it was in the whole planet's best interests to just let him. He promised, yet again, to give it back in more or less pristine conditions after he was done.

By the time the conference was over, three hours and thirty-nine minutes later, Loki was ready to eat a cow whole and maybe punch the incredibly annoying North Korean representative in the face, but they had agreed to sort-of work with him, even if not actually surrender the rule of their countries. As if Loki had wanted that. Yes, exactly, more humans to look after. 'All my birthday presents together could not make me happier.'

But things had ran smoothly once he had managed to get that point across, so he was in an extraordinarily good mood when he decided to pay his guest of honour a visit and appeared from the shadows in the corner right behind Stark, who was watching TV and nursing a glass of something amber. Loki hoped it was apple juice, but he wouldn't bet too much on it.

"Evening, Anthony. I hope this night finds you well," he said casually as he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.

A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine, and he almost dropped his tumbler of scotch right then and there, spilling the liquid all over his face and hands and choking a little. But he forced himself to breathe. If Loki wanted him dead, he would have died months (weeks?) ago. "H–hey..." he said at first with little conviction, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "So, uh. I'm guessing you're expecting a thanks for letting me out of the slammer, right?"

Loki would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy how cowed the mortal was around him at least a little bit, but then, he wasn't the god of lies for nothing, was he? He hated that side of himself, remnants from Thanos's hold over him before the Beast had smashed Loki into the ground not two floors above the one they were in right now, clearing away the last of the fog. He was trying to be better than the hateful, vengeful, cruel wretch he had once been, and it was hard work.

"I am not expecting anything from you; but gratitude, if you feel it, is appreciated," he commented, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to the mortal to wipe his face and hands.

Tony looked at it balefully, like it was something that might bite him. But he took it eventually, if just not to offend the other, dabbing almost daintily at his mouth with it.

"May I sit?" Loki enquired, and sat primly on the armchair facing the sofa without waiting for an answer. "I trust everything is to your liking so far? I left Jarvis instructions that he was to cater to your every whim, within reason." He pulled his hands into a steeple-shape and rested his fingers upon his lips, his green, green eyes boring into the mortal's.

At first, Tony said nothing, just cradling his almost empty glass and looking at warily the god, watching his movements, his eyebrow twitching when Loki sat. "Sure, why not," he groaned sarcastically. Hang on, did Loki say... "Jarvis?" he murmured, blinking at his captor. "How did you get him to... He's listening to you?"

Tony couldn't help but feel a little betrayed, a clenching in his heart. The thing birthed from his genius, his. And now Loki's, just like everything else.

"Well, I believe you did made him smart enough to be able to make his own choices in your absence, did you not?" Loki relaxed into his seat, sighing. By Auðumla's saggy tits, this day had been a nightmare. It was good to finally be home, for certain values of home, though he was sure Stark would disagree most vehemently. "I believe the technical phrase is 'kudos to you'?" His eyes bore into Stark's all the harder in the subsequent strained silence.

Tony found Loki's intense stare difficult to sit under. Just plain uncomfortable. He set his glass aside to fiddle with the handkerchief instead, trying to avoid the god's expectant eyes. Instead, he watched as Loki seemed to uncoil from the stress of the day. After a moment of shifting almost nervously his seat, Tony let his eyes drift slowly to Loki's, trying to challenge him if even just in this. "Your eyes are green. That's new."

That was defiant, right? Staring him right in the eyes long enough to note their color; which, by the way, he remembered being blue, from back when the god thought it fun to toss him out of his own window like a ragdoll.

'Ooh, observant,' Loki smiled, pleased. Very pleased indeed. He had known Stark to be smart, yes, and quick at making connections. Jarvis had sung his maker's praises easily enough. But he hadn't even begun to guess Stark was observant too. "Yes, my eyes are green. Good of you to notice."

Good that he wasn't too scared to look him in the eye. The thing Loki liked best about Stark was his spirit, and he didn't want it broken. In fact, he wanted Stark as happy and empowered as he could be. He regarded Stark carefully, noticing how his shoulders remained slumped, despite the bravado in his face and voice. 'Tread carefully, Loki,' he told himself.

"Stark, Jarvis is his own person," he said after a while, breaking the silence. "If he helped me, it was because it was in your best interest. He loves you dearly."

Tony actually straightened, a frown on his face and narrowing his gaze a little. Great. So Loki had basically sweet talked Jarvis into working with him, wasn't that wonderful? "Wait. So you're telling me Jarv thought it was best for me if I rotted in a cell?" he breathed through his nose, but Loki was right though. Jarvis knew well enough to operate in a way Tony had programmed him to. Free thought, even while he served others.

He'd just never expected Jarvis to serve the god.

Loki wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of finding himself reassuring the mortal. What had become of his life, his goals? "I am my own person now, as well," he continued seriously, looking Stark in the eye again, but this time so the man could see how there was no trace of falsehood there, "as you have just noticed."

The mortal reached up — with a steadier hand now, as he had worked to lessen the shaking over the hours he had to himself — and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right... wait. So you're different?" Tony blinked around, noting the god's lack of wicked-pixie-stick-of-destiny. "And what does that mean exactly?"

Loki smiled cruelly, though Stark couldn't know the cruelty wasn't directed at him, or at anything on this planet. "It means I can be reasoned with. It means, dear mortal, that I have regained full use of my faculties, and that I shall use them to gain revenge." Though he didn't say on whom. He would trade the human something for that information, and watching him stew was fun in its own way.

Tony didn't like the look of that grin spreading on the other's face but he said nothing to it, pushing that distrust aside. "Revenge?" he found himself blurting, still unsure as to what Loki's goal was here.

A look around and outside had proved that not much of Manhattan looked like it had been changed, really, making the billionaire wonder whether or not Loki was actually real or some horrible figment of a coma from knocking his head around too hard in the Iron Man suit. Of course, he didn't truly believe that as much as he would have preferred it.

Tony just eyed the god warily, perched at the edge of his seat with his legs crossed under him. He needed a shave. He wanted to roll back into bed and sleep and hope he awoke into a world that didn't suck. He wanted to know why Loki let him out.

While Stark got lost in his own thoughts, Loki kicked off his shoes, which for all their elegance pinched his toes, and rested his feet on the coffee table. Excellent. Now all he lacked was a bottle of chilled ale and he was set; he already had the soft lighting and the delightful company. Noticing the enquiring glint in Stark's eyes, he answered the question the mortal couldn't bring himself to ask.

"If you care to know, Jarvis has been trying to convince me to set you free since he understood my aims," he sighed, and a bottle of chilled micro-brewed ale appeared in his hand. "He had little skill with persuasion at first, though I will say this: he is a fast learner." He smiled and sipped his drink, the bubbles bringing up the feeling of celebration in him.

And why shouldn't he celebrate? He was so close to finally getting rid of Thanos and saving the Nine Realms while he was at it. If only Stark would cooperate.

The occasion is that I need your help, Anthony Stark, and I will get it. Hadn't those been his words? Tony remembered them through a foggy echo in his mind.

"Well yeah. Jarvis is... he's something," Tony offered weakly, watching Loki's feet resting on his table. Wait. No. Not his. The man frustratingly ran his hands through the more-than-messy frump of hair on his head. "So, hang on, why are you being nice?" he asked, tired of beating around the bush. He just wanted to get straight to the point. "What are you playing at, Loki?" Tony huffed, "I liked it back in my cell, thank you very much, and I think you still liked me locked away all the same too. So what do you want?"

Well. Tony Stark hadn't been completely broken, that was for sure, even if he wanted to take back the thing about the cell as soon as he'd said it.

And there he was, at last: Stark, defiant. It was the reason Loki had chosen him, or rather, the reason why he was Loki's only way out. He was a phoenix. Loki knew Stark had thought that before, but even the mortal didn't know how true it was.

Loki sighed and reclined more comfortably — almost snuggling into his stolen chair. Ah, mortals sure liked their luxuries. "If you mean that, I am almost sure we could arrange for it. I think it is still free," he smiled challengingly.

Knowing full well Loki could just take him and throw him right back into his cell on a whim, Tony squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He scratched at his arm nervously, messing with the bandage, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to challenge or goad the god into making that a reality.

When Stark declined the opportunity to answer, Loki's smile grew larger in triumph, though not cruel. "Truthfully — and yes, I am aware of the irony of me, God of Lies, appealing to the truth — truthfully, you are more use to me free than chained. I need you to plead my case to the resistance."

Free!? Tony's eyes flew open, and had he been holding his glass to his lips at that moment, he would have sputtered and sprayed everything in expensive scotch. He stared at Loki in disbelief for about five seconds. Then, suddenly, a laugh escaped his lips, and Tony slapped his knee. "Wait, Wait... You want me to... to help you take over the rest of my world?" Tony couldn't help but shiver with nervous chuckles.

Loki's words did make Tony wonder just what the state of the world was in, after all, if there was a resistance against Loki. He felt his heart go out to them, actually.

Loki waited until he stopped patiently, having expecting something of the sort. 'Yes, little mortal, laugh at my plan,' he thought bitterly. Here he was doing his best to keep this watery rock from imminent destruction, and Stark thanked him by pointing and laughing.

If there was one thing he hated, more than being ignored, it was being laughed at.

It reminded him of his childhood home.

"Right. Sorry," Tony continued, wiping at one eye, pretending to dry tears of mirth. "Do you remember what I did before you came in and wrecked our party, Loki? I was an Avenger. Obviously I failed, but you can't really expect me to help you..."

It was with a tight smile that Loki answered, at last. "Helping me is, ultimately, helping yourself. I am on your side, Anthony, though, of course, I do not expect you to understand that any time soon." His smile tightened, and his hands clenched into fists on the armrests in frustration.

At that, Tony actually quirked a brow at the god. "You're on our side?" He frowned. He couldn't believe that, with any fiber of his being, right? Last time, if he remembered correctly, Loki had come swooping in, taken over the mind of a friend, killed another, pretty much levelled a good portion of central Manhattan, and now had taken over the world. Was he missing something? The billionaire could only sit back a little in an 'I'm listening' manner. He doubted even the Silver-Tongued One could convince him to work with him.

Loki didn't answer at first, merely watching Tony, evaluating him. Then he laughed, and it wasn't a nice sound. It was mocking and cold and cruel. "And here I chose you because you seemed smarter than anyone on you lot," he chuckled. "No, you foolish human. Of course I am not on your side." He snorted. "I just paraded around very visible, boasting of my plans of world domination to everyone who would hear, in case they had any doubt about my intention. And it was obviously a miscalculation on my part that I angered each and every one — that was how you phrased it, correct? — of the people on Midgard who could possibly stop me." He sipped his ale, darkly amused, letting that sink in.

Okay. So... Maybe he was wrong. Tony's eyes widened as he just stared, dumbfounded by the god's words. He and Bruce had commented about exactly that the night after Loki's capture, while the god was sitting pretty in the glass tank. How everything seemed to be... loose-ended, only half thought out. They hadn't been able to see past that, but it was the makings of a theory that not everything Loki did was up front... And they'd learned that later when the Hulk got involved.

"And opening exactly one small portal to let my army trickle through into a city that, while populous, is neither the political or military capital of your pathetic world was just poor planning on my part, was it not?" Loki winked. "Oh, and let us not forget how my control over the man building it was so weak that he managed to build a safeguard to turn it off when he wanted. You said you yourself, did you not? I recall now, yes. 'There is no way you can come out on top,' was it? And, oh, this is too good," he let out a bark of poisonous laughter. "I give you victory served on a platter, and you stupid, stupid mortals still manage to lose."

Tony's lips parted a little. He actually felt kind of stupid. Everything Loki said was making sense.

Why would he have given Selvig permission to build something to close the portal? Why would he piss off the most powerful of Earth's heroes? It didn't make sense. For fun? No, while he wanted to believe it, he knew that wasn't right. So then...

"So you orchestrated everything?" he felt stupid just saying that, burned by his own words being used against him. "You knew all along everything that would happen... Until we lost. But you won?"

Loki nodded, a bit uncertainly. So... Stark believed him, just like that? And here was the difference between explaining himself to someone smart and trying to persuade someone stupid. Thor, for all he purported to be his brother, had pleaded with Loki to stop lying, to stop trying to manipulate him, when Loki had raised the exact same points he had just now. But Stark was clever; he had probably seen a lot of what Loki had just used as evidence and struggled to understand it.

Something clicked in Tony's mind. "Who are you running from?" Tony tilted his head as he crossed his arms. Who could possibly have such wily, tricky guy like Loki going through all this trouble? "You know, asking for help is usually the first way to go about these things," he huffed weakly.

Loki bit his tongue at that. In fact, Stark was too clever by far, his brain exposing to him the root of the problem just as quickly as he had understood Loki's point.

"I am not used to being listened to, Stark. I have learned to coerce and cajole favours from people," just today he had done exactly that in the conference with the so-called-United Nations, "favours they have always demanded I repay. Even when my voice is the one of reason," Loki smiled bitterly, "the fact that it is mine is reason enough to turn deaf ears on me." And yet, wonders of wonder, he had actually managed to get them to listen.

He regarded Anthony consideringly. The mortal was already half-way on his side, which was a nice change, but should Loki just blurt everything out to him, no finesse, no eloquence, no rhetoric? Loki was unused to speaking plainly, preferring to speak in riddles, letting others draw their own conclusions, letting them think it was their idea, not his. "You need not concern yourself with what is coming." It would be better if Stark didn't know too much, lest he be scared. "Content yourself in the knowledge that you have not been tasked with dealing with it yourself nor will you ever have the displeasure to."

Loki's eyes grew unfocused as he remembered Thanos, and the pain and the humiliation and the subservience and the satisfaction of cheating him, looking in Stark's general direction but not seeing him.

He blinked, clearing his thoughts, and looked back at the tiny, puny mortal that held the fate of the Nine in his hands without knowing it. "Stark. I have taken you out of confinement for one reason, and one reason only: the forces of this planet cannot stand divided, or we will all fall. Your task is to be my ambassador to the resistance and get them to agree to work with me, nothing more, nothing less." He paused, looking intently at Stark. "What say you?" he asked, pinning him with his old, old eyes.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 23rd of May**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Tony couldn't possibly know the train of thought running through Loki's mind, trying to keep himself from looking like some poor, savage slob. He couldn't help it really, maybe it was how Loki was dressed or something, but he felt horribly inadequate right now. Underdressed._

_So he ate as slowly as he could, somehow still managing to eat faster than Loki did. It was only when he looked up to see the god's face that his brows knitted together, Tony tilting his head in question. Had he done something wrong? Why wasn't Loki looking at him? He tried to move a little and catch the other's eye but the god wasn't having any of it._

* * *

**End notes: **We hope you enjoyed our baby very much. Stay tuned for more! Oh, and since the story is written already, crit won't actually affect the story, but it will make the authors better writers! So please, go ahead!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	2. Kept Pet

**Chapter Title: **Kept Pet

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki's attempt to make amends is received with suspicion as Tony tries to get over imprisonment.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Tony Stark had actually listened patiently, for once in his life.

He told himself he would not be persuaded, he would simply gather the facts that Loki was giving him, consider what else he knew outside of the Liesmith's experience, and come to his own conclusions. That's what scientists did with their data, and so would he. Even if maybe Loki wanted that too. Ugh. It as hard knowing that the man sitting in front of you might just be engineering your thoughts as you sat there stewing about it.

It was frustrating, and Tony would rather follow the adage of "Ignorance is bliss" and keep thinking his thoughts were his, thank you very much.

"I don't really like working in the dark, Loki..." he muttered at first, letting his arms remain crossed defensively. He was about to make a quip about how he was 'free' but not really, guessing it was either this or being shoved back into that dirty hole in the ground wherever it was... But he was also wrestling with morals, cultural ingraining, his own beliefs.

Jesus, how had Loki gotten him thinking so deeply in so short a time?

But the offer had finally been put to him and an answer was needed. He doubted the god would give him too long a time to think on it; not that he really needed it, though. His mind was powering through everything, weighing his options, the state of things, Loki as a whole. If he weren't you know, Tony Stark, genius billionaire etc., he might've gotten a migraine.

There was a heavy pause before he finally looked to the god. "Fine. I'll do it." At least as long as he thought that what he... no, what Loki was doing was right. "As long as I can get a haircut. And another one of these," he shook his scotch tumbler with a grin.

Loki chuckled, knowing not to take Stark's demands seriously. He knew the man was trying to lighten the mood by asking for mere luxuries in exchange for performing so onerous a task. The god intended to repay him greatly, even if the mortal didn't ask for it. In a way, it was better like this; Loki understood Stark enough to realise the man was more comfortable thinking of their arrangement as nothing other than a business transaction.

"Of course, you may have whatever you wish," he answered instead, deciding that actually giving the man back his freedom was the way to go.

Give more than what was asked, and an honourable man like Stark would try to make up for the extra by doing more things for Loki, unasked. It was a principle human males used tacitly on dates with females — pay for everything, and the girl might just feel obliged enough to repay with sexual favours. 'Though Anthony may not be so amused to hear I compared him to a young female,' he thought, amused.

"In fact you are free to do as you desire. I only ask that you allow me to remain here; finding somewhere to live might not be impossible, but I confess to having become used to Jarvis." Yes, praise him too. If the man was anything like Loki, receiving compliments when he was expecting insults might just be the thing to disarm him. "Well, and that you do as I asked before, of course; endorsing my reign publicly and convincing the resistance I am but the lesser evil. I may even cut your hair myself, you feel so inclined." He smiled kindly, thinking, 'yes, keep him guessing, Loki.'

Though Loki had already offered it already, Tony was actually surprised to hear it again.

Whatever you wish.

The god's words rang through him like a pleasant gunshot and while it shouldn't have hit him as hard as it did, Tony had just gone from just-the-barest-essentials type of living to free reign in a few hours flat. And he'd been out for most of those hours.

While the thought of serving — wait, no, helping the god towards an aim he didn't know still bugged him in the back of his mind, he considered that this was, perhaps, the better of the choices. If he started doubting Loki's actions, he would be able to see his betrayal coming — 'Because you totally saw it coming with Stane, didn't you Stark?' — and he'd be able to have access to more resources than if he was just locked away in a cell and left to ruminate on the state of things.

He'd done that before, hadn't he? Back with the Ten Rings. They'd literally held him at gunpoint, asking him to do what they wanted for nothing more than his life and not even his dignity. And Tony had pulled the rug right from under them with the right resources.

Okay, so Loki wasn't some trigger happy idiot who couldn't understand English, but hey, work with what you got.

Granted he hated this side of himself, that sneaky underhandedness he'd found in the darkness of that cave, but it was survival mechanism. He hated that he realized maybe he and Loki weren't so different. Had Loki been forced to resort to such drastic, roundabout measures?

He shook his head. Oh right, talking to said god. "Maybe I'll take you up on that," he chuckled, just joking of course. "Though still not sure if I'm gonna trust you with anything sharp in my general area for a good few... Mmm... weeks. But alright. That sounds... " he paused. So Loki was going to stay here? "...good." Another pause as his mind worked out that he was more like the guest here than Loki was now — and he'd have to change that, see what was compromised and everything. "So where do I sleep?"

Right. That. Loki had sort of commandeered Stark's bed, mostly because it was the best in the entire tower, partly because if he didn't use it, then who would? It had seemed like such a waste. But now its rightful owner was back and about, so, as loath as Loki was to have to give up the frankly divine mattress, and the view of Manhattan in the sunrise that greeted him every morning... Well. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"In your own bed, I suppose," his eyes flicked nervously, watching Stark's reaction out the corner of his eye. "Though, in the interests of keeping the rapport between us, you should know I have been using it while you were..." How to put it delicately? "...indisposed." He harrumphed, blushing faintly. Then a grievous thought occurred to him, and he sat up suddenly, looking anxiously to Stark. "If you are feeling inclined to burning it, may I keep the mattress?"

Tony quirked a brow at that. "Wait, you were...?" he sighed but he supposed that made sense. He snorted, feeling odd about the thought of the god sleeping under his own covers, just sprawled out in the stolen bed. The billionaire only shook his head and shrugged, just happy to hear he was going to get his room back. Hey, this whole thing was working out much better than he'd expected. He really didn't think Loki would have given up the bed, actually.

"As long as you didn't do anything weird in it," the billionaire grinned. "You really like that mattress though? If, you know, the place hasn't been blown up or anything, I'm sure I could order another just like it. There's a guest room right beside mine, though I guess... you already know that." Loki had been living here for awhile now, he supposed, and if Jarvis was helping him out, he was sure the AI was accommodating about it.

Loki grinned, remembering his quest for the perfect bed, the first night he had spent at the Tower. "Of course I know. But the bed is not nearly as good; the mattress is too unused, too hard." He smiled softly, remembering trying out every single bed, and decided to tell Stark.

Nothing created the illusion of closeness like proposing oneself as a laughing stock.

"In fact, I could probably tell you where I am in any given point in this building just by laying down on the bed. I tried them all, did Jarvis tell you? Before I arrived at yours, I mean. Some were too hard, others too soft; some even made noises. Jarvis kept telling me I had the wrong hair colour for that, but I never understood his meaning." He shrugged, waiting for Anthony's reaction.

Tony paused for a moment as he listened to the god's little tale... all before he burst out laughing. Boy, if the Saturday night cartoons didn't kill him, this did. The human leaned back as his body shook with his laughter, pulling a hand over his face to try and calm himself. There were tears in his eyes by the time he settled down a little. "O... oh, God, that's priceless. I'm so going to have more nicknames for you now."

After a moment of considering, Tony finally got up from his seat and stretched. The billionaire scooped up his empty plate and glass, moving to the open kitchen with a still-clear view of the god relaxing in the armchair. "So what do you think of Earth so far, anyway?" he ventured asking, figuring he'd just pass the time until he'd go shower and fix himself up.

"It is most wonderful," Loki admitted, in a low voice, in the relative privacy of the distance between them, knowing there was no possible way Stark could hear him from the kitchen, "most worth the zeal with which you defended it." He looked out the window, enjoying the way the city lights looked like a sea of stars in the night. He stood up from his chair, suddenly profoundly uncomfortable at the thought that maybe it was Anthony's chair.

The alien picked up his empty bottle of ale, another of the wonders of Midgard, and took it to the kitchen where he kept the other empty bottles. Loki approached hesitantly, suddenly feeling like a complete stranger, though this had been his home for the past three months. Well, any claim he thought he might have had to the place paled in comparison to Stark's — the man had made this place, after all. He tried to make as little noise as possible, moving around the kitchen.

Tony had heard the god's voice mumbling something in answer to his question as he rinsed his glass, but he hadn't caught the words. He had turned around to walk back to the living room when he discovered the god had joined him in the kitchen, silent like a ninja. Tony's eyes followed the god's path to a neatly made collection of empty bottles, looking at Loki with a smirk. "Looks like you enjoyed yourself," he commented, before thinking on what sort of damage a god would do to his liquor collection. Oh dear. Anyway... "What was that? Didn't catch it over the sound of the water."

"It is passable," Loki answered last, getting out a pan and some cooking utensils. "It is not Asgard, of course." No, it was a hundred times better. His reason for wanting to save it had gone from 'It's Thanos's gateway into the realms of Yggdrasil, and it must be watched, as all important gateways,' to 'I have nowhere else to go and want to live here,' but he couldn't very well tell Anthony that, now could he? Not when he had threatened to crush all the (gentle, cruel, brilliant, stupid) humans like ants.

When Loki answered, Tony frowned. "Passable? What? Just passable?" He looked almost hurt. He was mostly kidding of course, but he had to wonder, if that was the case, why Loki would go through all the trouble to 'save' — as he'd put it — this world. And that only got his mind running a mile a minute again.

"I will say this, however," Loki continued, pretending not to notice, "you mortals are mightily entertaining. The animated sagas alone, which Jarvis tells me are hand-drawn, have endeared your race greatly to me." Indeed, cartoons had a magic of their own.

"Animated sagas?" Tony tilted his head, laughing. "Do you ever change the channel?" The thought of this well-composed, and let's face it, intimidating man getting used to life on Earth was actually kind of adorable in a way. In a frustratingly weird kind of way. Tony mused that he might have been pretty good pals with this guy in some other life.

Holding the pan and the cutting board, Loki recalled that Stark had eaten not four hours before, and, if he knew Jarvis well, it had been a meal fit for kings. Still, it would be good manners to ask if he would like to share Loki's table. "On another note, do you wish to dine with me?" he asked, watching him curiously. He truly would not be offended if Stark said no, but he would like to prolong this truce they seemed to have going on.

Tony didn't hear at first, still stuck on Loki-the-TV-viewer. Well, actually. It was kind of hard to imagine Loki sleeping in a bed or watching TV or cooking when it had been ingrained in his mind (for three months!) that he was some evil, maniacal tyrant. Wait.

"Are you cooking?" Tony chuckled, though not unkindly. He was just surprised. "I thought you and Thor were princes or something. Princes don't cook," he quirked a brow, before he was offered more food. There was only the smallest pause before he said a little too quickly, "Sure. I wouldn't mind more food."

Three months in a cell sort of made you want to eat an entire cow.

Loki, who had only just finished putting on his apron, brandished the chopping knife at him. "Do not think Thor and me alike, foolish mortal. I am a sorcerer. Do you think potions make themselves?" In fact, he had become so good at judging quantity and combinations of ingredients that Thor and his friends, if they took Loki with them on adventures or trips, always made him cook. It was, after all, a woman's job — but since he already used magic, they didn't think he would mind.

"Whoa! Okay, point made," Tony held up his hands in surrender at the knife, real fear actually working its way up his spine for a split second, but the image overall too funny and unintimidating. "Sorry, didn't mean to piss you off, Goldilocks," he smirked. Oh God, he was pushing it already. He was so going to die. "Though I do like you in an apron. You're gonna make a great housewife someday, I think." So dead.

It was with a silent scowl that Loki put the pan with water on the stove to boil. He hated being reminded of his less-than-perfect youth, especially when he was doing something as soothing as cooking. Still frowning, he got out a couple chicken breasts and started dicing them furiously, letting out his anger in his chopping. The recipe called for bite-sized pieces, but he was frankly too angry to care.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he saw the water was boiling, and since his hands were busy putting butter on a skillet and putting it on the fire, he used his magic to get the noodles out of the pantry, open the package and drop them into the water. His magic stirred the noodles as he salted and sauteéd the chicken.

Tony found himself enraptured at the sight of the god using his magic to cook so casually . Everything in his mind was trying to make sense of this, how it worked, how Loki could do it without needing so much as an incantation or a blood sacrifice or something. Pfft. He blamed Rhodey's D&D nerdiness for that thought. Yes, Rhodey's. Shut up.

Of course Loki spotted Stark watching him like one would a circus act. "If you are hoping for popped corn," he ground out, unaware he was saying it wrong, "then you are out of luck. Why not make yourself useful and chop some garlic and nuts?" He pointed to the chopping board with his buttery spatula, sending droplets of melted butter flying harmlessly. He took a deep breath and returned to the chicken, noticing some of the pieces had stuck to the skillet. 'Well done,' he chided himself, and set about stirring them back into the mix.

He could only hope giving Stark something to do would silence his thoughts, which were no doubt unflattering and disdainful towards Loki's womanly skills.

"Popcorn?" Tony blinked, trying not to laugh. "Oh, no. This is good. Better than good. Okay..." Uh, right. Chopping things. Tony poked at his own lip while he tried to remember where everything was, and hoping Loki hadn't moved anything around, before he found a knife for his own, a chopping block, and the requested foods — and hey! His fridge was stocked! That was new.

He set to awkwardly chopping the garlic first after peeling it, not used to really... cooking. "You know, I didn't even know I had half this stuff. I usually order take out. Like, all the time." Scratch that, every time. The kitchen was like a foreign realm to him, good for only two things: grabbing a cold beer and... hm. Make that one.

He didn't have time to cook, too busy holing up down in his labs and working. The only time he really had some nice food around here was when Pepper decided it would be fun to experiment in the kitchen and make Tony the experimental hamster for it. He didn't mind.

He did... well enough, he guessed, hunching his shoulders as he slid the uneven bits of garlic over to the god before looking at the nuts. "Oh, dear."

Loki turned to him at that expression of dismay and noticed the unevenness of the chopping. He smirked softly, thinking that if Stark and he were trying to make a potion, he would have just managed to halve the effectiveness by his inexpert preparing of the ingredients. Fearing the nuts would have the same fate, he pushed Stark aside almost gently, hiding the board behind his back protectively.

"No, Stark. I will not allow you to do more damage. Finish grilling the chicken, take it out and then put more butter and the grated cheese in the skillet." The noodles were about done, he noticed, looking at the time — they would have to hurry.

Tony only looked disdainfully as he was handed a different task. Well at least he could do this, right?

Apparently not. Loki helped him out, calling him out whenever he misstepped during the whole process. He turned the chicken over, checking if the bottom was golden like the top, then got it out and added butter instead, Loki critiquing his technique all the way through.

Tony moved with a mostly mechanical manner, just pretty much listening to the god's demands without any real protest on his part since it was pretty evident who was more experienced in this realm of the Tower. It made his mind spin just remembering how quickly and fluidly the god moved around the space, never knocking into him once even when he was doing countless other things at the same time.

So Tony just... followed.

Meanwhile, Loki crushed the nuts with the flat of his blade, having used much the same trick to cut some rebellious singing beans for potions before, and chopped them easily and quickly.

It was mindless work, so Loki found himself observing Stark as he chatted amiably with him. "Of course you ordered out, I could tell," Loki said as he added the garlic and nuts. Then Tony moved to put the cheese all over the melted butter, and Loki frowned, noticing the mortal was doing it all wrong. "No, idiot mortal, do not add all the cheese together, it will clump up. You have to sprinkle it."

He grabbed Anthony's hand and shook it in the appropriate motion, smalls kernels of cheese raining evenly on the melted butter.

The billionaire actually blinked in surprise at the touch, watching Loki's hands more than he did the task before him. He really should pay attention, Tony mused to himself before he was let go, peering into the pan to see there were clump-less cheese bits just magically there now.

"Stop staring and stir," came Loki's commanding voice.

Oh! Stir. Right, that thing he should be doing. Shit. Tony started stirring as Loki sprinkled more cheese.

"There you go, like that." Loki let go of the mortal's hand, letting him continue on his own, and took the noodles out of the fire, draining the water in the sink. "As I was saying, everything you see here, is here because I ordered it of Jarvis." Using Stark's money, to be sure, but he wasn't going to admit that. "If you care to look, you will find some books of recipes as well. Now put the chicken back in and keep stirring. I shall add the pasta."

Maybe if Stark kept behaving so well, Loki would cook for him something of the mortal's choice.

They added the chicken strips and noodles and let them simmer in the sauce. Loki gathered everything to wash while it finished cooking, and assigned Stark a dish towel to dry everything as soon as Loki was done cleaning it. Usually he did that with magic, but he found he enjoyed the company, even if they weren't talking of anything important or relevant to saving the world. Loki did set the table with magic, though, for it was his least favourite part.

Somehow, Tony made it alive to the table and they sat with an actual home-cooked dinner before them — this was new for Tony too, really — with Loki opening a bottle of wine to drink with their meal. Tony blinked down at the food with his hands in his lap, trying not to dig in until Loki looked ready.

But the sight of the final prepared meal that they'd made together was too tempting to resist, and while Tony handled his first bite with a tentative manner, his eyes lit up and he took another bite. And another.

"So? What is the verdict?" Loki asked, swallowing his apprehension so Stark would not sense it, as he served the mortal some wine.

Tony fought to swallow the mouthful of Heaven before answering. "Oh, wow. It's amazing, actually. Okay, that's much better than takeout," he said between bites, trying his hardest to eat with some modicum of etiquette. He reached out for his own glass of wine, thought about it, then held it out, tapping the other's glass. "Cheers." He wasn't sure why exactly, but even then, it still felt like a cause for celebration.

It was only about a quarter in that he realized he should maybe slow down, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin as he looked across at the god. "You know... All jokes aside, I think you're an amazing cook." How was that for a piece of sincerity?

The look on the mortal's face was all Loki needed to see to finally be convinced that letting him out of the cell was a good idea. He was watching Loki reverently now, which felt strangely good, and his words of praise brought a soft flush of pleasure and a smile to Loki's face.

But then he realised Anthony was showing this frank delight over food, and he suddenly saw the ravenous way he dug in, like he hadn't seen food in years. Loki felt the burn of shame and pity. Pity because he could empathise — he had been in Stark's current position many a time before — and shame because it had been him who unthinkingly put him there.

It would have been different if he had actually meant to starve the spine out of him, but it had been an honest accident. Just neglect.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking away and biting his lips, unable to bear the sight of Anthony's happiness when he had been the one to bring him such sadness to begin with. How could he even begin to make up for it? He was sure Stark would never forgive him, no matter how much he endeared himself to the mortal.

Tony couldn't possibly know the train of thought running through Loki's mind, trying to keep himself from looking like some poor, savage slob. He couldn't help it really, maybe it was how Loki was dressed or something, but he felt horribly inadequate right now. Underdressed.

So he ate as slowly as he could, somehow still managing to eat faster than Loki did. It was only when he looked up to see the god's face that his brows knitted together, Tony tilting his head in question. Had he done something wrong? Why wasn't Loki looking at him? He tried to move a little and catch the other's eye but the god wasn't having any of it.

Not knowing what to say, Loki sipped his wine, and ate a few bites, finding everything tasted like ashes in his mouth. He lost his appetite by the seventh bite, when he saw Stark was already done with his serving. He knew the feeling — had felt the desperation — of coveting another helping, and there was nothing he could do but push his plate towards Anthony. "I find I misjudged my appetite. Have this, if you care for it."

He couldn't meet Stark's eyes, so he sipped his wine some more. He feared he might need another bottle to endure this.

Tony looked worriedly from the plate to the deity in front of him. "You... don't want to eat? You barely touched it," he noted the small bare section made by the other's fork. "No, no. You have to eat too, Goldilocks. I mean, you cooked it really. I just kind of got in the way and flopped around," he laughed. If he was spiteful towards the god for neglecting him, he surely didn't show it right now.

A worried smile quirked on his lips instead as he nudged the plate back. Even if the urge to take it was there.

The mortal was good, Loki could grant him that. But he was still merely a mortal, and Loki, well. He wasn't kenned the God of Lies for no reason. Anthony's voice and pitch was spot-on, but his eyes — the hungry look in them, the longing — gave him away. So he quirked an eyebrow at the plate and slid it a few inches back towards him.

"No, really," Tony said, "I feel gross eating as much as I did already. Not... not that the food made me feel gross," he corrected himself quickly, not wanting to offend. He sat back and patted his belly, resorting to his wine instead. "I just don't usually eat that much."

"For certain values of 'usually' meaning 'in the last three months', I am certain you are correct," Loki murmured, feeling like raising his voice would be a lack of respect. He wanted to yell at Anthony to just eat it, to stop fighting him. "But I am sure you 'usually' eat a lot more, when 'usually' means 'in the times you are not the captive of," he swallowed, feeling his voice was about to crack under the strain, "an irresponsible dictator.'"

He finally managed to raise his eyes and look at him, giving him a weak smile. It was how he chose to apologise, given that actually speaking the words was next to impossible. He had had it trained out of him at a young age, unless it was Odin or Frigga or Thor he ought to be apologising to; yet another of the long list of reasons why he preferred not to form part of that family any more.

Loki took a deep breath and pushed the plate back towards Stark. "Really, take it. I cannot bear the thought of watching you go hungry." He would not withhold food from Anthony again, not even on purpose. Or water or basic hygiene or basic comforts like soft furniture and warm clothes. This, he vowed. "Please, Anthony. Consider it an order, if you must." He nudged the plate a little closer to the man, warming it with magic to make it more tempting, his expression gentle but serious.

He wanted — no, needed to make it clear to Anthony that it was more than pity, more than a peace offering. He was trusting him; trusting him to an extent he hadn't trusted anyone in a long time, not even Thor when he had still been his brother. For he was letting Anthony see just how much his suffering at Loki's hands affected him, and Loki could only hope the mortal wouldn't use that knowledge against him.

There was something else at play here, Tony knew, other than food and hunger. Tony wasn't blind, or deaf; he got the message clear as water when he looked at the god. There were more reasons why the other insisted he take the offer than he was saying.

Did Loki feel... guilty?

The man was gauging what it was that Loki was feeling and he would have made the connection that maybe Loki had suffered a similar fate, but when he saw the curls of rising steam from the reheated plate, Tony couldn't help but reach for it. It was like his hands just moved on their own out of instinct, his body reacting to any food he could get in his system before it predicted another long dry spell. It wouldn't even permit him to puke anything up, really.

And it was still wonderful, the food. He'd already gotten over his little sobbing phase earlier when he realized food could actually taste that good, and he would never think to show anything like that before the god, but even so the feeling was there. Tony ate heartily, slower this time now that he was pretty much filled to the brim with food.

Ah, the sheer happiness in Stark's eyes was incredibly rewarding. Loki could eat some boiled rice with eggs and pepper later; now, he was watching enraptured as his pet mortal smiled and hummed at every bite. Yes, it had been well done, giving him his share. He would take care of Anthony, in exchange for the services he would perform for Loki — he knew that mortals worked best when their morale was high, and Stark's, right now, looked to be through the roof.

"Thanks..." Tony hummed happily, cheeks flushed as he leaned back in his chair, knitting his fingers over his stomach and feeling for all the world content. Maybe he'd just skip the shower and grooming and do it tomorrow. Oh! Tomorrow.

"Oh uhm. So what's my schedule for tomorrow?" he peeked one eye open, looking across the table at his host of sorts. Had he really admitted to being... irresponsible? Had he said that just to lie and connect with him more? Tony shook the thoughts away, too content to care right now. He could fall asleep right here, really. "I don't really know how you go about your day and stuff, and I don't really remember my normal routine anymore, so what is it?"

Loki had had plans for him the next day, but seeing how content and warm he looked, he decided to allow Anthony one more day of rest before giving him duties. "Tomorrow you shall have a vacation to do as you want. Sleep in, if you so desire; get a massage for all I care." He examined his nails haughtily, noticing they were due for a manicure again. No, he wasn't avoiding Stark's eyes. "You may use your time to get caught up on events, if you wish, but if I have done my job right, you will find nothing too different from what you are used to."

Because he had taken great pains to make it so. The only actual changes he had wrought were in government contracts, building weapons, bunkers, hiring observatories and labs to keep monitoring for portals... He had been getting the continent ready for interplanetary war, and he had only today managed to start convincing the governments of the rest of the world to basically cede all power to him, so they could deny responsibility for the misuse of budget later, when this was all over.

Loki was trying to turn Earth into a warship, and doing it in the most covert way possible, so as not to cause panicked riots in the streets.

The offer to rest and relax actually surprised the ex-billionaire so much that he blinked both eyes open and stared at the dark haired Trickster. He half expected it to be a lie, but he saw that it was not. That only made the human hum more and wiggle happily down into his seat. He liked this idea, he liked it a lot.

But that got him thinking again, even through the fuzzy haze of satisfaction in his mind. The smile fell from his lips, his face becoming neutral, if curious.

"Why are you being nice to me, Loki?" Tony said finally, never one to really moderate his questions. "I don't like feeling in debt. I appreciate it but you really don't have to." His pride would be his downfall. And hey, hadn't it been already? Hadn't he fallen from the sky and gotten captured? Hadn't he suffered enough for it for back talking every ugly face that walked by his cage? Looks like he hadn't learned.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 27th of May**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Tony had already resigned to dying there in that cell, still spitting insults at the mind-controlled drones who chittered outside of his cage. He'd even lost steam doing that, holding onto that fire until the second month, when he'd just settled to waking up and leaning against one corner of his cage — with his back always protected, the only safety he had — and keeping his mind intact with the complex equations he didn't dare lose. There was probably a library of scientific information back there on his walls, illegible all except to the maddened mind who'd scrawled it all out without rhyme or reason._

_Now he knew they were alive, and it was like rewriting that whole tortured portion of his life over again. Tony didn't want to say goodbye again._

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**End notes: **Yes, we know, basically nothing has happened. I regret to inform you that this will be the norm, for the 140k words we have span five days. Don't worry, we'll pick up speed soon enough; those are some _eventful_ five days ;)

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	3. Complications

**Chapter Title: **Complications

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **6k/170k-ish.

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **That pesky Resistance and their petty acts of terrorist put Loki's whole plan in danger, and he is forced to have a press conference.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

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**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

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Loki shook his head slowly yet emphatically. "No. It is not about putting you in my debt." It was about paying one. He was already in Stark's debt, for gross dereliction of the laws of hospitality. To be sure, Stark had been a hostage, yes, but there were laws is Asgard, and laws in Midgard, detailing his obligations very carefully. Stark had eaten from the food Loki had provided, no matter how inadequate it had been, and had slept under the roof Loki had taken as his, and that entitled him to a lot of things Loki had been too busy to give. "I feel that, in your words, _being nice_ will persuade you that I am not the monster the resistance is making me out to be."

It was then that Tony listened intently. "Resistance..." he said the word, rolling from his tongue like it was oily, unsure now whether he liked the sound of it or not anymore. Because he was technically on Loki's side now right?

Fury's resistance in particular, which was taking great pleasure in destroying anything Loki commissioned to be built. Just two days ago they had managed to steal a huge shipment of explosives, and he dreaded what they could be planning to blow up next. This was why he needed Anthony Stark himself — not as an engineer, not as a weapons manufacturer, though it could come in handy, but as an Avenger.

"So, after you feel you have composed yourself enough," Loki continued, "I need you to sniff them out. It would seem there are two separate ones, one headed by Nicholas Fury, the other by Steve Rogers. There seems to be no communication between then, but then, I am hardly an expert in that regard," he smiled self-deprecatingly. "Dr. Banner is also in my _care_," his eyebrow did a little quirk at that word, remembering what his _care_ had done to Anthony, "and I will be needed you to speak with him and convince him I am not controlling your mind first, before you seek out the rest. How you proceed I care not," he sipped the last of his wine, stroking the stem of the glass pensively. "I will leave that up to you. I just want them to stop destroying the defenses I am building."

When Fury and Steve's names came up, Tony actually bolted up in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests. "Wait. They're alive? I thought... _I'd thought._.." he was shaking a little now, shivering. His face had turned ashen.

He'd already said his goodbyes to everyone he loved, everyone he really knew. Whether it was a goodbye to their deaths or his, he wasn't sure, and he could never really know what went on beyond the bars of his cage.

Tony had already resigned to dying there in that cell, still spitting insults at the mind-controlled drones who chittered outside of his cage. He'd even lost steam doing that, holding onto that fire until the second month, when he'd just settled to waking up and leaning against one corner of his cage — with his back always protected, the only safety he had — and keeping his mind intact with the complex equations he didn't dare lose. There was probably a library of scientific information back there on his walls, illegible all except to the maddened mind who'd scrawled it all out without rhyme or reason.

Now he knew they were alive, and it was like rewriting that whole tortured portion of his life over again. Tony didn't want to say goodbye_ again_.

Loki watched the emotions wash over Stark's face. The despair, the relief, the deep mourning, the joy... How could a face show so many emotions in so little a lapse without melting off? He thought, for a moment, that Anthony was about to cry.

It took a moment to compose himself before the man blew out a breath and looked at Loki with the slowest nod. "So... Bruce is here?" he asked, settling back down in his seat in a semblance of calm. He nodded to himself, "Okay. I think I'd like to talk to him tomorrow then, see what he thinks, see if I can't get him to..." a pause, "...join us." It was Tony's turn to look away for a moment as he held back a well of emotions. "So uh. How'd you cage in the Hulk anyway?"

Ah. Of course Anthony could seize on that one tidbit of information. Loki smirked, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Ah. Well. I confess I cheated," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, not truly making an effort to sound in any way sorry. "I simply put him in a bubble of magic and held him above the ground in midair, once it became obvious my army would be victorious, despite all my efforts to the contrary," he winked, enjoying the subtle jab at Stark's team or heroes. "Since there was nothing to break out of, not even his superior strength could help him, and eventually he tired out. By then, I had assembled a team of medics. They have kept him sedated, I assume."

Though he didn't know how, much to his chagrin. He didn't know whether the poor doctor had been in a chemically induced sleep for the last three months, or if they had drugged his food and waited until he was too hungry to refuse it, despite knowing it to be drugged. He might have to make amends there, too. It was very bad etiquette to forget a prisoner.

Tony blanched at the thought of Banner being sedated, mind running through all the ways in which that would happen. It made him feel a bit sick, and he had to convince himself that he was working for Loki because he believed in what he'd said.

That was a weird thought in itself: believing in Loki over his friends... But they'd been dead to him before, right? He'd lived for a whole month believing he'd lived in a world where the Avengers no longer existed, that he was the only one left. Now don't get him wrong. He'd held the hope that they were alive close to his chest for two whole _months,_ but when they never showed up, when he never saw nor heard of them as the weeks dragged on, he'd figured they'd died. Maybe not trying to save him, but he knew that Loki had already won...

Loki took a deep breath. So much to fix, so little time. "You have, of course, free reign of everything except whatever we decide my new chambers will be. This includes your lab, which I have made sure has remained intact, and any and all information devices you might need to use to inform yourself of the situation." This touched a point he had been loath to speak of so soon: permanent chambers.

Tony shook his head, his thoughts muddied, desperately grasping onto Loki's words so he didn't slip away back into his own mind. "Okay, sounds good," he nodded, listening to his options as they were laid out for him. So he could go pretty much anywhere he pleased sans Loki's room, which made sense considering he didn't think he'd ever have reason to venture there in the first place.

"Banner will have the same privileges, of course, or he can leave to join the resistance if he wishes." Though Loki hoped he didn't. "I cannot make him obey me against his wishes, and I will not suffer unwilling servants." He leaned on the table expectantly, making a steeple with his hands and resting his lips against them, watching Stark's face for any trace that he may still fall into such a category.

"Crap. If you won't make him stay, I will," Tony joked slowly. "I'd rather not go up against the Hulk in the resistance, thank you very much. My armors can only take so much abuse." Wait. Why would he need his armor? He chewed on his lip, thinking as he looked down at the table before he lifted his gaze to see Loki watching him. Tony quirked a brow, looking behind him as if something might be standing just shy of his chair. "What?" Was there something on his face?

Loki grinned. "Nothing," he answered mysteriously. For one moment, his thoughts had begged him to prank Stark and tell that it was just his handsome face from which Loki couldn't look away, but somehow he had refrained. He didn't know how Stark did it, but there was simply something very earnest about him, very endearing, that made one want to befriend him. "I see my words troubled you greatly. Apologies, I truly meant for you to take tomorrow for your own."

Breaking his pose, Loki snapped his fingers and all the plates and cutlery on the table disappeared, reappearing instead in the sink. He would wash them on the morrow.

As the plates vanished, the human nearly jumped from such a sudden displacement, staring at the table in disbelief. His hands were clenched on the chair's arms, his body tensed before he willed himself to relax. "That's okay. I want to talk to Banner, it's on my To Do list now," he tried for a smile, realizing with strange recognition that, in this, his wants and Loki's wants were the same. Loki needed Banner to be assuaged, Tony wanted to simply get him out of that cell. It kind of scared him that they paralleled.

Smiling pleasantly, Loki stood up from his chair and walked around the table, coming to a stop behind Anthony, resting his hands on his shoulders.

Tony tensed again though in surprise. For one brief, terrified moment, the man believed Loki had done all of this as some sort of cruel game, to lull him into a sense of comfort all before the god snapped his neck right then and there. Tony squeezed his eyes shut. But when the pain didn't come, and instead Loki's fingers began to rub little circles into his more-than-tight shoulders, he realized it wasn't so bad. A small groan escaped unbidden from his lips for a moment as he just enjoyed it.

Fuck. He hadn't meant to do that, eyes wide as he bit his lip.

Loki squeezed gently, massaging the tension out of Anthony's shoulders softly, before he realised his gesture might be misconstrued as threatening instead of comforting, or worse, as Loki claiming certain _liberties_ over his guest's body, and dropped his hands to his side.

Tony almost felt regret that they were gone from him. Perhaps it was those whole three months that he'd been locked away but... Tony sudden realized. He missed _touch_. Simple as that.

"Goodnight, then," Loki said tightly. "I shall take the room next to yours until I arrange lodgings on a different floor; I am sure such an arrangement will suit your frayed nerves." He bit his lip briefly, rubbing the inside of his elbow up and down hesitantly. "I shall just — go, then. Good night."

"Oh, uhm. Okay then, night..." Tony trailed off, chastising himself for enjoying even just a little bit of that, straightening in his chair to watch Loki stalk off. He shook his head. Seriously. He just needed to go lie down and stop thinking about everything and its mother for a good, solid few hours.

* * *

The next day, Loki rose with the sun, as was his custom. He would have preferred to stay in bed, lazing about until the Sun was high and the shadows small, but he had a realm to save.

He showered and dressed impeccably, as always, and made enough breakfast for two. Pancakes, scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. Oh, he had no illusions that Anthony would wake as early, but he still wanted to get in his good graces. In fact, thinking it twice, he decided to make enough for four, counting Banner. He told Jarvis to get him the same attention he had provided the recently released Stark and to bring him to the penthouse when he was able.

Still, he piled Stark's share onto a tray, with coffee — he asked of Jarvis how his master preferred it — and a tall glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice and delivered it to his bedroom, ably navigating it in the dark — Stark clearly wasn't one to enjoy the sunrise, a pity — and setting it down on the bedside table.

Anthony was barely visible, curled up as he was beneath the sheets and covers. Only part of his face and hair could be seen, and Loki, unreasonable warmth blooming in his chest, combed a few stray hairs from his forehead, whispering a spell to help him heal and regain his strength soon.

Feeling silly, he returned to the kitchen with a StarkPad, reading his email and newsfeed as he sat down to eat. The stock market was up, which looked good, and the prices for steel had dropped slightly, he read over the scrambled eggs. All the babies born in Japan so far that day had some sort of small mutation (webbed feet, patches of scales, a third nipple). There were even pictures. Loki didn't know why Jarvis insisted on letting him know such unimportant news — three days ago there had been a flash-flooding in northwestern Africa, but no crops or people had died because it was a desert; completely nonsensical! Loki scoffed and ignored it.

On another hand, it seemed the ambassadors in the UN had passed Loki's message on to their countries. Steel was good; satellite-grade steel, more importantly, since he was planning on building more space guns and mounting them on satellites all around the planet.

His PR department had done a surprisingly good job, he thought as he ate his fried bacon with his hands. He still hadn't got the hang of bacon; it kept coming out either too soft or too crispy, and he couldn't quite hold it with a fork today without breaking it. The caricatures of him from the New York times, for the fifth day in a row, showed him in rather a positive light, though humorous, than in the villainous one it had been sporting before. Excellent, it meant he was finally gaining some credibility.

His day would have remained excellent if he had stopped reading there. Or if the people in charge of finding the relevant news and putting them on his feed had pulled their punches a little.

Now he knew what all the C4 Fury's people had stolen was for. They had blown up the facility where he had been storing all the ready space guns that hadn't yet been sent into space, and the factory in Alaska that made them, killing at least twenty-five employees, most of them highly trained scientists. Years of research and study gone down the drain; months of preparation just _tossed out the window_.

Loki felt like weeping.

He could make another factory, to be sure, but who would want to work in it, with the threat that the resistance posed? And even if he did, even if he put up fifty of those factories, the weapons would never be ready in time. The Other would be coming over with an entire _fleet_ any day now, and he had counted on having those guns up in the atmosphere in less than one week.

He put the tablet down, slumping, and covered his eyes with one hand, mourning silently. All his plans had hinged on being able to put those guns up. It would be impossible to hold the Chitauri at bay, let along defeat Thanos now. His shoulders shook and he laughed hysterically to keep from crying. Oh, they were done for.

Loki should have used Stark earlier. He should have killed the Avengers instead of allowing them to roam the Earth and wreak havoc to his plans to safeguard _their bloody planet_. Why, oh, _why_ had he ever thought they could work together? Humans couldn't get agree long enough to keep their planet relatively clean and their population under control, let alone organise seven billion people to defend against an invader set on _xenocide_!

Oh, he should have just razed them to the ground and spare them the suffering and strife that was to come. He should have just given up from the beginning, handed the Tesseract over to Thanos in exchange for a quiet place to live on and just _bloody well_ let him _have_ the Nine Realms. What reason did Loki ever have to try to save them? Why should he even _care?_

And the very worst thing? Was that Fury thought he was doing Earth a favour by destroying everything Loki made.

He was openly weeping now, giving into despair, his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking, wracked with huge, heaving sobs. Then he laughed. Shrill, maniacal laughter. '_Oh, pity,_' he thought, darkly amused, '_and here I was starting to like the place._'

Well. Let Midgard _burn_.

Loki would cut his losses and return to Asgard. Or maybe Vanaheim, since Thor was in Asgard and he knew of Loki's plans. Surely Heimdall, the blind, all-seeing _fool_, had already told the Aesir of Midgard's fate. Surely they had all started preparing; surely even Odin could appreciate the need to form an inter-realm alliance.

He took a deep breath and raised his head high, his face still as though carved from stone, except for a little twitch in the corner of his mouth. "There we go again," he muttered, drying his cheeks harshly with his sleeves. "Loki, ever the butt of a cosmic joke." He chuckled.

No. He would not damn an entire realm for the mistake of a few. There had to be _some way_ he could salvage this.

No! Loki could _not _be defeated again. He _refused_ to be conquered. He would start production again. Maybe there was still time, if he didn't rely on putting the guns on satellites. It would mean leaving whole areas deserted of protection, yes, but it was the best bet. The _only_ bet. But he would have to tell the truth to the _whole world._ Could they handle it?

It was with a grim face and steely resolution that Loki wiped his face clean and teleported to the White House. He had a press conference to plan.

* * *

Tony had done as Loki suggested: he slept in.

And _oh, _did he sleep in. He didn't even feel it as Loki came and walked around his room, setting down food on the nightstand. The billionaire looked like a caterpillar cocooned in a rolled mess of blankets, just wanting warmth and safety and darkness while he slept the best night of his life. He'd even gone to bed in only his boxers, if just so that he could feel the comforting press of the sheets against his skin.

Tony hadn't woken to Loki's touch but he did seem to hum happily when the god smoothed a lock of hair away, almost leaning into the touch, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

With barely a dream to occupy him, Tony finally blinked himself awake to the sound of absolute silence, smacking his lips happily and pulling the covers over his head to block out the 2:44pm blinking in red on his Stark tech bedside clock. "Just a few more minutes..." he groaned to no-one, just wanting to say it and get a semblance of normalcy back into his life. He frowned though when he realized he hadn't asked about Pepper and where she was... He'd have to track the god down.

A 'few more minutes' passed as half an hour before the lazy billionaire forced himself to roll out of bed (itching his hip and yawning) and into the shower. The hot water felt like heaven on his skin when he finally stripped what little he was wearing and stepped in. It took him a whole nother hour to get out. Tony was definitely taking the time to enjoy every amenity possible. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to smell like his old shampoos and soap.

The wide, expensive bathroom was a foggy haze of steam by the time he got out to shave, walking around naked — _'Pfft, Stark naked,'_ he giggled to himself — to find what he needed then standing before the bathroom mirror. It was wonderful to finally trim his beard properly, fixing its shape as he checked himself, running his hands through unruly hair, which still flopped around in a damp, crazy mess and into his eyes if he didn't slick it back some. He'd need help with the haircut, he mused.

The memory of Loki's offering came to mind. Tony pushed it away quickly.

Once he was done with that, he found a nice pair of clothes — cloooothes, he finally had nice clothes — in his closet, among what _had_ to be Loki's, they were too long and too boring for Tony, and slipped into them. Casual long sleeve and jeans, since Loki had said he didn't need to do anything today. He was whistling now, _Rock You Like A Hurricane _by the Scorpions came to mind first, as he padded around the room and finally saw the tray on his nightstand.

"Wha...?" Loki had cooked for him again? A smile tugged at his lips as he sat at the edge of his bed and set the tray on his lap, taking up the orange juice first and sipping at it. It was lukewarm but he didn't care one bit, moving everything over and scooting to the other side of the bed so he could look at window-wall.

"Jarv, windows please?" he asked rather than commanded, sipping again as the digital slats over the windows vanished, leaving the billionaire to look over the wide expanse of Manhattan in the afternoon light.

He could almost cry right now.

* * *

Loki was about to tear the hair from his head any second now.

Ever since finding out about the facility in Alaska and the subsequent breakdown, the day had become worse by the minute.

Upon arriving at the the Oval Office, he had found it in absolute chaos, which, to be fair, was the usual state of affairs. Most people were indifferent to the 'act of terrorism' and were simply going about their business as inefficiently as they could, as public workers were wont to do. The few who were in the know, however, were simply devastated and hopeless, offering Loki their condolences and giving emotional speeches about how it had "been a pleasure serving with you," whatever that meant.

Loki had yelled at them all irritably and locked himself up with the few people he felt he could trust, which had all been touched by his Staff in some way or another, and had devised new strategies, trying to find a way out of this mess that didn't involve letting the cat out of the bag to billions of panicky humans.

Then he had conference-called the UN to tell them, only to find out that Russia and China wanted no part in the plan and were urging their allies to turn away as well, and they were already working together on their own solution, having given up, or simply distrusting, Loki. Which _sucked_, as the mortals said it, because the workers of the Far East were his most reliable ones, meticulous and cheap, and he had been counting on them to build the new weaponry fast enough.

But no; since it was Loki counting on them, if something could go wrong, it _did_ go wrong.

Not only were the countries refusing to march to Loki's fife, oh, no. The underpaid workers were revolting. 'On Strike', the humans called it, but Loki could see behind their petty words. It meant that even if Loki got to the factory owners themselves, he still would get no results unless he touched every individual employee with his Scepter; and frankly, he had no time for that.

After tearing apart his office in a fit of frustrated rage, he had emerged calm. So calm, in fact, that everyone in his path automatically fell silent when they saw him and stepped back, leaving him wide berth. It helped he was wearing his armor, which had appeared automatically in his fit of anger.

The time for subtlety was past. He needed to polarize the whole planet into doing his bidding at the same time, of once in their _gods forsaken _lifetimes.

"You, wench," he snapped at some random woman, who flinched at the address. "Call whoever is responsible for fixing this place and get them here. The office needs some repairs."

The girl hunched in on herself and scurried away with a soft "Yes, Sir."

Loki turned to sneer at the rest of the dull, useless minions he seemed to have acquired like pests. "You, you and you," he pointed at the three people he recognised from PR, "arrange a press conference at four sharp. The rest of you drop whatever you were doing and make sure_ every human in this watery rock_ sees it. Yes, including the resistance. I know some of you have been informing them," he noticed how at least four people paled dramatically and grinned. It was all sharp teeth, gleaming fiercely. "No, I care not right now. GO! SCRAM!" His upper lip curled in disgust at the way they scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight.

Four o'clock on the dot found Loki standing at the podium. The flag of the United States of America had been pulled down — in its stead, there hung a huge standard in Loki's colours. The hall was full of people, mostly journalists, and cameras. Everywhere he looked, there were cameras.

'_Good_,' he thought with a small smile. '_Let us see how well you can ignore me now._'

He received the signal that the transmission had started and begun his speech.

* * *

It was Jarvis who brought it to his consideration that Tony might like to move to the penthouse with his breakfast and turn on the television. "Loki will be making a public address at four PM, Sir, if you would care to watch."

That got Tony's attention and so he scooted out of his room holding his food tray to him possessively, plopping on the couch as the AI turned the wide flat screen on for him. "Okay... Let's see what President Goldilocks has to say," he chuckled to himself, chewing on a piece of bread as he folded his legs beneath him and sat at the edge of his cushioned seat. "Or is it Dictator?" He wasn't sure.

At four o'clock, the regularly scheduled program — some weird soap opera — ceased to exist in favor of Loki at a podium, looking for all the world like the most calm, but pissed off man in existence. He looked like he was struggling with something, a look Tony only recognized because he himself had done that before countless times before cameras, at podiums. The mask could only stretch so far. Tony didn't say a word as the speech began, curious as to why Loki looked as he did.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen. I have some rather terrible news for you," Loki started, his face and voice incongruously cheerful. "As you may recall, sometime about three months ago, your pathetic planet as a whole discovered the existence of extraterrestrial life. To be sure, a small measure of humans were already aware, but they had kept it quiet because they thought it would be _smart_ to keep the general public in the bliss of ignorance." He smiled condescendingly. "Well, I am about to disabuse you of that quaint notion."

Tony watched, deciding to reserve judgement for a while yet.

"First of all, no, I did not invade your planet to further my own ambition. I was captured by a would-be overlord that goes by the name of Thanos, though it will be in your best interests not to repeat that."

The name didn't even remotely ring a bell. Tony blinked at the screen, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth as he watched Loki remain composed as he spoke of it. Thanos... The name sent a shiver through the base of his spine and he didn't know why.

On the TV, Loki carried on. "I will not trouble you with the story of my woes," he gave the camera and easy smile. Too easy, to Tony's expert eyes. "But be content with the knowledge that, by the time he was done with me, I, a _god_, was ready to do his bidding. Or so he thought..." The god smirked saucily, letting his audience know he was very smug about that.

"Wait... so this was the guy who forced him..." Tony left the sentence unfinished, already connecting dots in his head. Who was this Thanos anyway? Wait, he was missing the speech.

"...was tasked with the retrieval of an immense reservoir of power Odin All-Father, King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms," Loki scoffed slightly, showing the world at large what he truly thought of Odin's titles, "had put on Earth for safe storage. It had been, until the moment I came, in the hands of a secret organization dedicated to maintaining world peace."

Right, the Tesseract. Tony nodded along.

"I took it from them and used it to make one _single_ small portal..." Loki begun exposing the same points he raised with Tony, except the Selvig-and-the-portal thing, letting audience draw their own conclusions.

Tony knew this part, and he'd already come to his own conclusions on Loki's words, so he tuned it out. Vaguely, he wondered just how many people actually believed the god. Would they think it was just a ploy to get them to cooperate? Probably. He was chewing on a forkful of sausage now, more of an automated task than any active action, and he resumed paying attention when it seemed Loki had wound down from his condescending explanation.

"...and even though I tried my best, _your heroes_ were not enough to defeat me. But they had fought bravely, and because I am a merciful god," Loki smiled beatifically, "I decided to take pity on you and help you against what is to come. But no matter what I do, you still fight me on principle. While that kind of _stubbornness_ may be amusing in toddlers..."

Oh, awesome, another lecture. "Merciful... Pfft..." Tony had to chuckle. Then he thought again. He supposed, in retrospect, that his _sentence_ could have been so much worse than it had. Loki had neglected him, it was clear now, but he could have had the man tortured, every last bits of his sanity pulled away in threads.

Right. Speech. Paying attention.

"...I had several safeguards in place, of course, including a month-long plan to arm all the satellites, turning them into space weapons, if you will, and another to distribute nuclear weapons more evenly upon the globe. But your _freedom fighters_," the god spat, full of disdain, "the ones you cheer on for their acts of _terrorism_ that foil me at every turn, have lain ruin to them, leaving your home exposed to the army that approaches. Leaving it _defenseless_."

Tony swallowed audibly, his eyes widening slightly.

"Attend this, if nothing else of what I am saying: _They are coming,_" Loki snarled. "Thanos has no interest in conquest, only in Death. He touches this planet, _your_ planet," he punctuated that with a slap on the podium, "and Death touches it with him, leaving nothing but devastation, famine and plague in their wake."

Wait. So this was what it was all about? Loki was fighting humanity to _save_ it from this Thanos guy or whatever? Tony could only assume this was the one who truly lead the Chitauri, or... at least most of them?

Loki suddenly grew pale and looked worried, which was jarring, considering how composed and in control he had been the whole time. "So stop _fighting me_," he said. "I am your only hope. That is all. I will take no questions." Then he got up and left clumsily.

The conference hall in the TV was silent for a minute before exploding into cacophony of voices and raised hands and microphones.

His food forgotten, Tony stared blankly at the screen, finally understanding why Loki needed him.

_'The Avengers, or what is now called the Resistance, is killing humanity.'_

If Loki was correct, then Tony _did_ have to speak with them. And soon. "Shit... And I've been out of the game this whole time?" he grunted, setting his plate down three fourths of the way finished — though he stuck a piece of toast in his mouth — as he made his way to the elevators. "Okay. I need to talk to Banner, Jarv. Where can I find him? Also, begin start up sequences in my labs. I want it hot and ready for me when I'm done with Bruce, I've got to see how rusty my poor suits have gotten from the disuse." He sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair.

Holy shit. Since when had the bad guys become good and the good guys, bad? Granted, he doubted Fury and Steve knew, but still... Loki was right about one thing though.

He really needed Tony.

* * *

Well, Loki _had_ been been right about one thing, he mused.

The humans couldn't stop looking at him, and their eyes glowed queerly. He didn't care to check if they were weeping from their imminent destruction or if was something else — he had work to do and would stop to dally with mortals.

As he walked the halls to his borrowed office, he and his assistants were swarmed by _people_, ranging from reporters to janitors to a guy who wanted to _shake Lok's hand_ and was summarily dispatched by security. Loki was still keyed from the whole baring-himself-and-letting-everyone-know-the-truth thing, and the attention, however positive, did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves.

The reason he had cut things off so inelegantly and abruptly was that Thanos, called by seven billion minds thinking of him, had turned his attentions to Loki while he was about to round up the chastisement, trying to draw his soul through astral plain to his side and, when that failed, smothering him with visions of what his punishment would be. 'Frazzled' may be an understatement.

The rest of Loki's day, evening and half of the night was basically dealing with the UN representatives, ambassadors, CEOs of multinationals — Stark was conspicuously absent from that list, but his assistants knew better than to comment on it — and the PR people, who thought he needed live updates of how the world was receiving his news.

Loki didn't care about the debate that had crashed Twitter's servers in mere hours, or what people in facebook were posting about him, or the new 'memes' in 9GAG or Reddit or any of the inane virtual 'sites' the mortals enjoyed wasting their time — and Loki's — with. All he cared about was going home, eating dinner — when it became ten PM — and getting some sleep — at two in the morning.

It was half past three in the morning when he decided he was fed up and announced that he was leaving, making no room at all for arguments. Then he gathered his jacket and his tie — he had got rid of them around nine, when it became too stifling — before giving a nod towards his team and vanishing from sight.

Loki was hungry and sore and sleepy, in his defense, which was why he teleported straight to what his body still considered his room: Stark's. But he didn't notice, and kept on disrobing in the darkened room before slipping into bed with just his underwear on, too tired to put on his pajamas.

He was out like a light as soon as his head hit his pillow.

* * *

In the time Loki had been gone, addressing the world's concerns and starting even more headlines than at any point in the history of the Earth previously, Tony had been dealing with shit at home.

He'd found Bruce and almost lost his lunch seeing the drugged, tired look on his friend's face. After placating the poor scientist, he was let out and cared for, given a shower and warm food. Tony had to do the hard part in explaining what was up, what Loki needed Tony to do, and reassuring Bruce that "You just sit back and take it easy, Bud, I won't let them harm you anymore."

Thankfully, Bruce was too out of it to really fight. The scientist simply nodded and accepted everything Tony said.

Tony had to dose him again with a smaller amount of sedative, because he was sure Bruce's body, after three months of it, had become more than accustomed to it and would likely suffer terrible withdrawals if he went cold turkey. He sent Bruce to his bed with a full belly and told him not to flip his shit if he saw the god when he woke up.

Loki was... on their side. Sorta.

And then he spent the rest of the night tending to his armors, doing clean-up and patching, reorganizing data. Just getting acquainted with everything — he remembered he'd just been on the verge of nanotechnology before he'd been locked away, pity he couldn't work on it now.

Even his mind was a little rusty, though he would never admit it aloud.

It took him much longer to reacquaint himself with everything, but eventually he had the Mark VII and a few other suits up and running again, fully operational. "God, I missed my babies," he laughed, kissing one of the face plates.

He fell asleep down in his workshop, passing out over the littered table with no regards to his comfort.

* * *

Loki woke up when the sun streaming through the window hit the particular angle that made it shine straight into his eyes. When he rolled over, intent on more sleep, he discovered he wasn't alone, and that his partner was a greenish-tinged, very awake Bruce Banner.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 30th of May**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"And you, Doctor Banner. I am in need of your brain as well. You see, even if Stark here designs the most powerful weapon and the most efficient way to produce it..." Loki trailed off, looking down and slumping a bit against the table. "I cannot follow through with my original plan. There is only a finite amount of weapons your race can conceivably manufacture in such a short lapse. I require you to design the best possible distribution for them."_

* * *

**End notes: **I did promise "eventful", didn't I?

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	4. Breakfast with Banner

**Chapter Title:** Breakfast with Banner

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **The Internet loves Loki (hint: it's unrequitted). Meanwhile, Jarvis ships frostiron, Bruce bonds with their pet dictator, and Tony makes up for lost meals.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki squawked in startlement, flinging himself back, and consequently off the bed, where his sleepy mind finally took note of the green tinge and remembered its significance. He forgot all about keeping appearances as he crawled backwards on his hands until his back hit the wall, whereupon he remembered who he was and, more importantly, who he was supposed to be.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he yelled, pointing a finger at Banner. "Stark was supposed to take you to medical, not to my bed!"

Banner barked out a laugh, sounding still very much angry. "It's_ his_ bed, actually," he deadpanned, looking pointedly at Loki's state of undress.

Seeing that the beast wasn't about to resurface despite the mortal's anger, Loki got to his feet, still wary, and resumed his haughty expression as he walked, full of confidence he didn't feel, to where he had dropped his clothes before getting into bed. "So it is. I must have been too tired to realise," he murmured, smelling his shirt and making a face. "I shall go to_ my_ room and get dressed — I trust Stark provided you with clothing? You two are of a size."

"Yep, _Tony_ took care of me," Banner answered, looking less green but by no means less angry.

Loki wondered if he should apologise for what he had put this man through the last few months. But no, it was his right, as the conqueror, to imprison those who would oppose him. Banner should be thankful that Loki hadn't had him executed and that, even though he had kept him drugged, Loki's minions had also kept him relatively well fed and taken care of.

So instead, he asked Jarvis to wake Stark and call him up, and turned to Banner. "What will you be having for breakfast?" he enquired.

Banner regarded him silently.

"Nevermind," Loki sighed, defeated. "You may sleep in if you wish; I will take a shower before preparing our morning meal." He left the room without waiting for an answer.

* * *

When Tony awoke — '_Thank you Jarvis, you ass._' — he had the circular imprint of an unfinished arc reactor on his left cheek. Somehow he'd slept on it, and his back felt retarded from being slumped over in his chair for so long. There was a stiffness in his muscles. The pain was familiar though.

Ah... it was good to be back.

"Oh, God. I seriously need a masseuse," Tony groaned and pressed a hand against his back, trying to stretch and wincing in the process. He needed a lot of things right now.

With a sigh, Tony set aside his late-night projects aside and headed upstairs. When the elevator dinged at his floor, he realized Bruce was out of his cage and Loki was probably home and...! The engineer bounded then, quickly running past the kitchen towards the bedroom to see—

—he stopped. Backpedalled slowly to the kitchen.

Was that Loki and... Bruce? Eating breakfast?_ Together_?

Tony had to snort, a grin easily jumping to his face and relief flooding his system. There weren't any Hulk or Loki-sized holes anywhere either, so that was a plus. "Huh. Looks like you two played nice this morning." Eyes fell to the plates of food being awkwardly pecked at. "And started breakfast without me. I should feel hurt."

Loki smiled tightly at him, pointedly spearing a sausage with his delicate fork and viciously biting off the end. "If we had waited for you, my dear," he pretended to ignore the way Banner's eyes widened at that, "I fear the Doctor and I may never have eaten at all. Sausage?" he offered, gesturing to the veritable pile of them on the platter on the middle of the table. "Come, sit. I trust you have brought Banner up to speed?"

"Yep, I did," Tony smirked, never even pausing in his step when Loki addressed him as '_his dear'_. "S'probably the only reason you're not a Loki-shaped smear in the wall." The billionaire moved to pour himself some black coffee first, spiked with a nice bit of Dalmore before taking the offered seat next to Loki. He stole an empty plate and forked more than a couple sausage links over. He still wasn't over his eating phase yet.

"As I understand it, whatever's left of us," Bruce looked to Tony, timidly poking at his food, "the Avengers, I mean, are doing more harm than good. And we're—"

"I'm," Tony corrected.

"—supposed to convince them to stop interfering?"

"That's the gist of it," the engineer nodded, chewing while he thought. "You get to sit pretty. I don't know what side effects the sedatives have on you long term, and even more so, we can't have the Hulk crashing around while I'm trying to play PR for a homicidal space viking... dictator," Tony snorted, winking at Loki and stuffing another sausage into his mouth.

Loki smiled at Tony very fakely and _very_ unpleasantly. "You are hardly the best _PR_ this dictator could have." So what if he was angry about it? It was his prerogative. He shouldn't _need_ a spokesperson. The mortals should have fallen to their knees and did his bidding, but _no_. They had never in their sorry lives done what was needed of them — why start now? "You are, however, the best weapons manufacturer."

Even after months of being locked up, Tony never forgot the whole Ten Rings thing. He wasn't sure which incident of his capture was worse, this or that, but he remembered one thing: he'd made weapons to start and end wars. At least. Back then he had.

He'd chosen to privatize most of his research now, but Loki was asking... and well. There was a whole world to be saved.

"Well. You're right in that I guess," he sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking at the god. "I _am_ the best you've got."

Loki saw Stark's eyes dim and bit his lip, feeling like he should apologise. Again. He shouldn't have to ask this of Stark, but it was true, he was the very best. Reigning in a sigh, he turned to Banner, looking apologetically at the man encasing the beast, already hating himself for what he was going to ask of such a surprisingly gentle soul.

"And you, Doctor Banner. I am in need of your brain as well. You see, even if Stark here designs the most powerful weapon and the most efficient way to produce it..." he trailed off, looking down and slumping a bit against the table. "I cannot follow through with my original plan. There is only a finite amount of weapons your race can conceivably manufacture in such a short lapse. I require you to design the best possible distribution for them."

Bruce quirked a brow to see the God of Lies asking him for his assistance. He had to admit, it'd been a weird morning, and it was only getting weirder. Most of his anger had petered down into a contained thing inside of him, and while he was still angry, he couldn't help but notice the way Loki looked almost lost. It was a look he knew himself; he'd seen it in the mirror more than enough times.

The scientist sighed and nodded. "Alright. I can do that. I'm going to admit, this is going to be a little weird getting all my facilities back, but if its to help save us, I'm in." He paused just then, looking pointedly at Loki alone. "No one gets hurt though."

Tony could agree with that. He nodded his assent, watching Loki's face and stealing a sausage from the god's own plate unabashedly. Sometimes, you had to enjoy the little things.

Loki squawked inelegantly at that, fixing Stark with a glare. How dare the mortal...! Oh, that meant _war_. "You will pay for that," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes, and raised his hands, leaving them poised in front of his chest like a pianist whose piano had suddenly disappeared, or, more accurately, like a puppeteer. "Banner, make your _team-mate_ see reason and return my property, and I will not hurt him."

Bruce, wide-eyed, made the universal 'not me' gesture, waving his hands in front of his chest innocently. "I have no power over him, O Master," he said, going on a hunch that Loki was just playing along to diffuse the dreary atmosphere. A pretty big hunch. So he leaned closer to Loki and added, in a stage whisper, "Make him pay."

"O–oh, God! You are NOT helping, Bruce!"

Loki had been about to tickle Stark until he cried uncle, but a sudden idea crossed his mind and he looked Stark up and down. "Well, since he wanted the sausages, he may have them..." Unable to hold back a mischievous smile, he added, "All." He waved his fingers.

Tony cried out, "Oh, God, fuck, what's going on!?" as his hands began to work by themselves, grabbing all the sausages and sticking them in his ears and nostrils and down the back of his shirt. "You traitorous things! I oughta saw you off and replace you with prosthetics!" he yelled at his own arms, disgusted.

Banner was bent double, laughing silently, shoulders shaking as he struggled to remain in control of his body, because apparently Loki had broke him. Loki himself remained seemingly unamused, and that made it all the funnier.

Once Tony had taken every last sausage and crammed it somewhere, he glared at Loki. He had to blow his nose hard to clear himself of the damn things. "I don't know whether to feel horrified, betrayed, or _violated_," he deadpanned, squirming as a sausage rolled from his shirt and onto the floor. "Probably all of the above."

Loki snorted at the 'violated' comment, however, and that was it. His composure was lost. He had to lean on the table to avoid falling into his tea as he let out a loud guffaw, followed by a fit of honest belly laughter that left his abdominal muscles hurting. "Oh, haha, if you want to feel _violated_," he snickered, lifting one finger in the air and twirling it, "I can yet remedy that."

One of the sausages was suddenly covered in sparks as Loki's magic animated it, and it wiggled its way to Stark like a worm, trying to climb up into Stark's trouser leg with very obvious intent.

"Y–yyygh!" Stark jumped and swatted at the offending sausage, but it kept going despite all attempts on his part to shake it off.

Banner was grinning like a loon. "Stop, stop, haha," he laughed, actually reaching out to slap Loki's hand away. "Bad god. You don't terrorise mortals that are helping you," he chided, still grinning.

Loki pouted and cut off the magic to the sausage. "Fine, _Mother_, as you say." He even got the 'whatever' tone and roll of the eyes of a teenager down pat. "Stark, apologies. I should not take advantage of my magic, et cetera," he grumbled, chanting it as if he had said it a thousand and one times before. Which he had. Back in Asgard.

Thank God. "Almost molested by breakfast food. Check. I've added that to my list of Things I've Done In My Life I Could Have Lived Without Doing," Tony deadpanned again, cheeks burning. He glared playfully at the god. "Oh, just you wait, Mr. Magic Tricks. You won't see it coming from Tony Stark, but when you do..." he chuckled.

The look in his eyes said the war wasn't won yet, and Loki raised his brows challengingly. _Bring it on_, the gesture said.

"Pfeh," Tony spat, wriggling his head and squirming to dig around his shirt for the errant sausages, most of them falling out. His hand dug around back and found one plastered against his lower spine.

Tony looked at it, then bit into it anyway. "Mmm. Tastes even better now, thank you very much." But when he looked down at the ones that'd fallen onto the floor, that starving part of Tony wanted to surface. He was half tempted to collect them from the ground and eat them anyway. Grab them before anyone else could.

A small whine escaped his throat, barely heard — and he didn't want anyone to hear — before he had to tear his eyes away and focus on the table instead.

But Loki was neither blind nor a stranger to the feeling of deep seated hunger that came after a period of captivity, so he merely waved his hands, making the soiled sausages vanish. He actually felt sorry, which was a feeling still too new to get used to already. He stood from his seat and started walking to the kitchen. "Stark, choose, omelettes or pancakes? You, Banner?"

Tony was busy trying not to relive those moments in the cell to answer. He'd rather not remember when he dove to the ground when a guard would carelessly plop a plate of slop into his cell and Tony would eat it right off the... Yeah, let's not go there. Those were painfully embarrassing moments in his life. Not that anyone but himself cared about that.

Bruce had looked away from Tony when he saw what he was staring at so intently. '_Been there, done that, recovered_,' he reminded himself bitterly, refusing to pity Tony. He would get better. _They_ would get better. "Pancakes. But make them thin, more like crepes. I think I saw some jam in the fridge that would go great with them." He wasn't actually hungry, but he was setting an example for Tony: there was no shame in asking for food anymore. He got up and told Tony, "Eat up, I'll help him. Do you want anything in particular? Loki turned out to be a pretty good cook."

"What? Oh. Pancakes," Tony snapped out of it, looking to Loki. "What Bruce said." Usually he was up for taking anything from anybody, but he felt sort of sick about it all at the moment. Bruce was helping, though. "Oh, uhm, actually, both would be nice I guess. I'm just not... not used to my fridge being full of actual food," he said, a half-smile quirking at the corner of his lip. He looked up at Bruce, who looked almost like a doting mother for some reason. "Yeah, you should've seen us make chicken parmesan awhile ago," he laughed, easily casting off the haunted look he had. After all, he was a pretty good actor, a man with many masks. Hey, like Loki.

"Between the two of us," Loki confided to Banner in mock-whisper, "he hindered more than he helped. Do not allow him near the kitchen," before patting his back in camaraderie and strutting to the kitchen.

"Heeeey. I helped... dry the dishes just fine!" Tony pouted at his retreating back.

"Don't listen to him, Tony," Bruce told his friend. "I'm sure you were very helpful." He shared one last smile before following Loki into the kitchen.

The billionaire blinked around as Banner left. He sat with his hands in his lap, feeling like he'd done something wrong. He was left twiddling his thumbs, thinking that maybe he should just get up and go help. Or at least be around. A part of him was also afraid for Bruce and Loki being together, but they'd survived each other this long. And the tension between them seemed to have dissipated at Tony's expense. He squirmed in his chair again, pretty sure there was a sausage somewhere still.

Ah! Found it. It was resting in the waistband of his boxers. Tony snorted, looked around, and ate it anyway. No shame, right?

He had the thing finished while he waited, and it was still some time while the others made the rest of his breakfast. Tony tapped his fingers over the table, pulling up an interface and deciding to do some calculations from his work downstairs. Because he was horrible at sitting still and idle.

* * *

Bruce realised as soon as he rounded the column that he should have stayed. Loki looked... Well, like he wanted to punch something, or scream into a pillow. He coughed loudly, making Loki jump, and he saw the façade snapping up into place. "He'll get over it. So, how can I help?"

Not looking at him, Loki sighed. "You talk as if from experience," he not-quite asked, pointing him towards the fridge. "Bring me ingredients," he ordered, getting various mixing bowl and cutting boards and stuff.

"That's because I have experience in this," Bruce answered, obligingly getting out eggs and cheese and milk and ham, piling them onto his arms and shutting the door of the fridge with his ass. He watched Loki for cues and saw the alien wanted him to elaborate, so he did, while passing anything Loki pointed at as he cooked. "You've met the Other Guy. Not many people want me to stick around after they've seen him, mostly because he has just wrecked their stuff." He shrugged as if it didn't affect him. "I travel. Well, I run, but calling it 'travelling' sounds better. I don't always have access to hygiene or food..."

Loki paused in the making of the runny crepe mix and stole a glance at him. "Butter," he murmured, continuing adding milk until the mix was the right consistency, and Banner hurried to obey. "I know the feeling," he confessed. "I have no home either. I am not welcome in any of Nine Realms, including this one. I tried to kill myself, end my miserable existence," Banner's head shot up and he regarded Loki with pitying eyes. Loki hated that. "Do not pity me, mortal. If I had succeeded, none of this," he gestured vaguely around, trying to encompass his invasion of Earth and his falling into Thanos' hands, "would have happened."

"I don't pity you," Bruce said softly, pushing his fingers against each other timidly. Should they even be talking about this? He was Loki's prisoner, for fuck's sake! Still... "I — I understand you. I also think it would be better if I were dead, if I could end it." Loki passed him a cutting board and he started chopping the ham and dicing the cheese distractedly, almost by inertia. "But I can't —_ we _can't. Look, I know I'm not as strong as Tony..."

Loki brushed against him, getting another bowl and mixing the eggs for the omelet while his magic took care of making the crepes. "I am not either. I see your meaning. We are not heroes, we are cowards," he added salt and pepper, "and somehow it has fallen to us to keep the World Tree standing." He paused to grin ruefully at Banner. "And yet, I do not believe I could ask for better partners than you and Stark, if you are willing to see past my errors."

Bruce returned the grin shakily. "Liar," he huffed, finishing up the knife work and pushing the chopping board towards Loki. They didn't say anything for some time, while Loki finished making the crepes and Tony's omelet. Bruce picked up the plate with the pile of wafer-thin crepes, feeling a lot lighter than he had that morning, and said, "Tony is strong, he will forgive you," before taking it to the table.

Looking down into the piping-hot omelet, Loki could only hope he was right, even if he couldn't bring himself to apologise, not when it meant something. Sighing again, Loki grabbed the plate and walked towards the rest of his new team, finding the man lost in work, hunched over a tablet.

Tony was in the process of recalibrating the thrust capacity of his latest suit when the two returned, only looking up when Loki pushed aside his work to set a plate with a piping hot omelet before him. "Oh! Seriously? Sweeeet," Tony murmured happily, his mouth watering instantly.

Loki felt something tighten in his chest at the hungry look he gave the food. "There you go, mortal. I believe it is sufficient payment for that with which I have tasked you," he said offhandedly, sitting to watch him and Banner eat.

Tony wrenched his eyes away to smile up at Loki. It was a real, genuine smile that he forgot to dial back. Because really, he just wanted more food. It really was a way to a man's heart, wasn't it? "What? You don't owe me anything, I already had a nice shower and food. But I guess I'm not complaining either," he hummed, eyes roaming over the omelet and crepes. He almost afraid to touch the food in case it would disappear like some cruel trick

Loki was taken aback momentarily by the smile, and he very nearly forgot to pay attention to the man's words. Still, he couldn't help but return the smile, his eyes gentle, and say, "The shower and food and general hospitality are common decency, Anthony, not payment." He pushed the plate with the pile of crepes towards him. He was already planning the next meal — he would have to ask Jarvis what Tony's favourites were.

Oh, yes, Loki had no qualms about spoiling his pet mortals.

Tony made fake sounds of sobbing while he ate. "Oh, my God, you guys are going to make me fat. Then I won't be able to fit in my armor, let alone fly!" He was really digging in regardless of his words, enjoying every single bite. "Ohhh I see," he said past a mouthful of cheesy eggs. Tony shook a finger at Loki. "I see what you're doing now, you evil, dastardly villain, you," he chuckled, before rolling up a crepe and eating it with his hands.

Since Banner and Stark were busy stuffing their faces, Loki grabbed the tablet Stark had been working on — since it was his own — and started looking at the news while sipping his coffee.

The world seemed to be either in a panic or readying for war, depending on the article. Mostly, there was just speculation about Loki and his motives, which he always enjoyed, but some actual news had wormed their way in. Of course, there was the standard unimportant nonsense: a string of low-scale earthquakes in eastern Brazil that had harmed no one because they barely little tremors, and apparently all of Saturn's storms had gone quiet the day before.

And recipes for hamburgers and vindaloo. He laughed. Good Jarvis. Always thinking ahead. He even added Banner to his set of proteges without being asked.

"What is it?" Banner asked around a mouthful of crepes with strawberry jam.

"Nothing," Loki answered, unable to hold back a small smile, "just Jarvis being his clever self." He turned the tablet around so Banner and Stark would be able to see it, though he held it out of their reach so they wouldn't thumb through the news and learn how the world perceived Loki and just how well his speech yesterday had worked for prodding them into action.

When Loki turned the tablet — and _wow, _it was so strange to see how easily Loki had adjust to life in Tony Stark's state-of-the-art, cutting-edge Tower — Tony almost choked. "Oh, my God, hamburgers?! And... foooooood." Tony made an effort to groan like a zombie. "Yes. Good 'ol Jarv. Convince Loki to make me more food," he chimed happily at the space around them, before burping and thumping a fist on his chest. "Gross, haha. So uhm. You guys should totally see the new armor I'm working on when we're done here," he commented, while effectively devouring the rest of his omelette.

Loki shared a smile with Banner. If Stark was already making technology, then he truly would be alright. "Regretfully, I cannot. I do not think I need to remind you that I am running your puny world," Loki said haughtily.

Tony looked almost crestfallen. "Awww, whaaat?" he frowned at the god when he said he wouldn't be coming to see the suit.

Loki decided he had delayed his revenge long enough and stole the fork he had been taking to his mouth, and eating the piece of omelet piled on it. "By the Nine, I am a good cook," he breathed around the hot mouthful, winking at the outrage in Stark's face.

"Hey! That was mine!" Tony whined playfully while he pouted at the dictator.

"Don't worry, Tony, I will check it out with you," Bruce said, slathering a crepe with marmalade and rolling it up into a neat little tube, offering it to Loki. "And you," he told him, "quit taking the food from Tony's mouth."

"Yeah. What Bruce said. Don't take it from my mouth," Tony parroted, sticking his tongue out.

Loki pretend-pouted and took the offered food, nibbling on it to try it. "I think I prefer the crepe with just sugar," he mused, returning to his news and sitting up sharply at the next headline, crepe forgotten.

Someone had started a donation website for the world-wide war effort called "Help Loki Help Us", and it had reached over three billion euros overnight. His mouth hung open and his chest swelled with pride over his silly, silly humans. He stroked the tablet lovingly, still not quite believing it, and stood up, blinking away the relieved tears that had formed in his eyes.

'_The mortals are behind me,_' he thought, gleeful and finally, after so long, hopeful.

"Apologies, I need to leave. You two work on those weapons and on locating Fury and his goons," he instructed as he ran around, gathering his briefcase, putting the tablet in it, and picking up his suit jacket.

Tony snatched the forgotten crepe from Loki's plate. Like he'd said, the war wasn't over. He tipped his head to the side, peering at Loki running about as he ate. "Wait, what's up?"

"Jarvis knows how to reach me if you need to," he added, patting Stark's head in farewell and vanishing.

And then Loki was gone. Just like that.

Poof.

"...Uh, okay," Tony blinked at the other's hasty getaway, his head tingling where Loki had petted him like some faithful dog.

Bruce blinked. "Is he always like that?" he asked, turning to Tony.

He laughed and turned to look at Bruce. "Yeah. Pretty much." He almost added '_he's not so bad a guy_', but well... that'd be too sappy for Tony Stark. Right?

* * *

The whole of the White House seemed in high spirits when Loki teleported in, smiling at everyone who jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance and then waved or nodded, smiling back. '_Is this what being a hero feels like?_' he wondered absently as he made his way to his stolen office. There, his secretary told him a meeting had convened in the appropriately-named meeting room to discuss the new events, and she also offered him a pastry.

He took it gratefully, even though he had eaten enough to burst, and left for the meeting with a wink. His PR greeted him with "The internet loves you," and all the people present shared grins.

Loki rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "Yes, I know; I assure you it is entirely unrequited," as he sat down, smiling privately at the resulting titters. "Any news from China?" he asked, gearing the meeting in the direction it was supposed to go.

It was nearly four hours later that they called for a break, and Loki took the opportunity to pop back home for lunch and to see if Stark had made any progress with the gun designs. He found the penthouse quiet, the lights off, and settled on the couch. "Jarvis, summon Stark, please," he murmured, kicking off his shoes and laying down. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

"So what they don't know is I've got some of my own private satellites dancing around up there. Made sure they were undetectable, kind of like this suit here. Haven't thought of anything catchy," Tony was saying, rapping his knuckle against a suit he'd been working on since before his capture. He was in the process of showing off the polymer suit off to Bruce, down in the labs where his armors were all on display. "But for now I'm calling it the Ghost Armor, Model XXVII." He said it with a wink.

Suddenly, Jarvis chimed, _"_Loki Laufeyson has arrived on the premises. He requests your presence."

"Uh, alright. Don't tell him we're coming up right away, alright?" Tony had a mischievous look in his eye. After all, the war wasn't over between them, right? Loki could wait a few minutes.

Tony waved Bruce to follow, moving through a sea of glowing holograms, blueprints for newer guns. There were the designs for the ones Loki had used as well, nothing a little probing couldn't help him find, and he'd been adding onto those too. He was also thinking about other methods of combat, should the outer deterrents fail. If that happened, he'd go down guns blazing, and he'd make sure Earth was still standing. If it was anyone who could end a war, Loki had picked the right person.

Of course there were still many improvements and sleepless nights ahead of him but still.

"So, I'm thinking we can install the guns up there on the satellites, smaller, more efficient. It's take months to redo what Loki was doing but we can reuse what he had. And c'mon. You know I had to put weapons in my satellites. I'm... always prepared," he said when Bruce had given him a 'look'.

More like paranoid, eh, Tony?

Bruce looked slightly nervous. "Loki," he reminded Tony.

"Right. C'mon. Let's not keep him waiting any more, huh? I'm starved," Tony laughed, blushing slightly at his admission.

Tony had barely eaten anything but chips and spiked coffee — sometimes just straight whiskey and vodka — when he'd pulled all-nighters before Loki had captured him, and he was really unused to being hungry all the time, let alone admitting it.

Bruce looked at him commiseratingly, but said nothing as they took the express elevator up to the penthouse. He stopped cold when they got out, blinking. He saw Tony was about to speak and grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging on it. "Shhh. Look," he said, pointing at the sleeping form of Loki, softly snoring on the couch.

Tony paused when Bruce pointed Loki sleeping out on the couch. Well. He'd been planning on sneaking up on the god and surprising him, but this was just as good.

The god slept on his side, curled as best he could on the limited confines of the sofa. In his sleep, a line of drool had come out of his mouth, wetting the pillow under his face. He looked... peaceful.

"Aw... Tony, get Jarvis to snap a picture," Bruce whispered, tugging on Tony's shirt like a spoiled boy.

"No, wait wait. I got this," Tony snorted, holding up a hand for Bruce to wait while he pulled out his own personal phone and kneeled as silently as he could before Loki. He held the device and snapped a few shots of the god's sleeping face. "D'awww, wookit the sleepy little dictator," Tony cooed quietly, taking pics.

Bruce bit his curled index finger to avoid laughing at Tony's hilarious new pet name for Loki.

Tony wrinkled his nose at the realization that Loki was soaking his poor, expensive seats with drool. "Hey, Mussolini. You wanna stop drooling on my cushions?" he finally spoke a little louder, snickering. "You never know what makes it to the internet, pal." He was kidding.

Maybe.

Loki stirred, making a little _nnn_ sound at the back of his throat and stretching a bit before his eyes fluttered open. His gaze, still blurry with sleep, settled on Stark and his grin, and Loki's eyes widened. Alarmed, he sat up, finally noticing the wet side of his face and wiping it dry with his sleeve. "You were watching me sleep," he accused with a sleep-addled slur, blushing slightly at the indignity of it all. His eyes flew to Stark's phone, still exposed, and hardened.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 3rd of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_It kinda broke Bruce's heart, the way Loki looked so gratefully at him. When he murmured "My gratitude, Banner," with that small smile, Bruce felt like the worst kind of scum on earth._

_The guilty look on his friend's face when Loki thanked him was enough for Tony to decide he'd take the blame for Bruce if Loki ever found out. Tony was pretty good at taking the heat for things anyway, and he'd rather keep Bruce and Loki on good terms._

* * *

**End notes: **You can tell this is a long rp because you can tell we were eating while we wrote it. And now I'm hungry after editing it... COOK FOR ME, LOKI, PLEASE.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	5. Temperature

**Chapter Title: **Temperature

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **6k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none!

**Chapter Summary: **Tony and Bruce have no sense of self preservation, as evidenced by Bruce teasing Tony for his growing crush on Loki.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

It was the only warning Stark got before Loki snatched his cell phone, turning to examine it for incriminating pictures.

"Awww! Hey! C'mon! Give it back," Tony cried out, chuckling as he flailed his arms in the direction of the phone. Loki held him at arm's length by pushing on his face as he browsed through the phone, squishing Tony's cheek against his teeth. Tony tried to reach for the phone, but his fingers didn't even come close. Fuck his short arms.

Sure enough, Loki found the pictures. He grimaced at his unguarded, sleeping face, and started looking for ways to delete the shameful pictures. "I cannot believe you photographed me!" he yelled, outraged.

"That's what you get when you parade around like a crazy dictator god and then sleep like a kitten," Tony snorted, throwing his eyes to Bruce even when his face was still being squished. "Bruce! C'mon, help me out here, buddy! The world needs to know what we've seeeeeen!" he cried out, still trying to reach for the phone as if his life depended on it.

Bruce nodded seriously, keeping a smile at bay. Really, the camaraderie between Tony and Loki was flooring, especially considering Loki had effectively taken over the world and imprisoned Tony for months, not even bothering to feed him right by the look in his eyes whenever he spotted food. He had expected animosity and quiet, simmering defiance, not... Not Loki cooking for him, for them; certainly not Tony wrestling with Loki over embarrassing pictures.

It gave him warm, fuzzy feelings.

"Here, I'll help you," he told Loki, casually walking around the couch, ignoring the 'traitor!' Tony yelled at him, muffled by Loki's claw-like fingers clutching over his mouth and cheeks.

Trustingly, Loki handed it over. "Please, erase them," he said, desperation clear in his voice; almost begging, really.

Bruce took the phone and emailed the pictures to himself. "Tony had some kind of password protection, give me a minute," he invented, winking at Tony from the side of his face Loki wouldn't see.

Tony saw it, and though he made no outward effort to acknowledge it, he did an inner fist pump. Yes! Go Brucey, still on his side. Tony never doubted him, right? He did his best to stay pouty throughout, murmuring insults under his breath.

Bruce opened Tumblr, saw he was logged in as Tony, and posted the pictures with the caption, "Caught Baby sleeping 3." Then he deleted them from the phone and erased the browser history, before handing Loki back the cell phone to inspect. "There you go, easy peasy."

It kinda broke his heart, the way Loki smiled gratefully at him. When he murmured "My gratitude, Banner," with a small smile, Bruce felt like the worst kind of scum on earth.

The guilty look on his friend's face when Loki thanked him was enough for Tony to decide he'd take the blame for Bruce if Loki ever found out. Tony was pretty good at taking the heat for things anyway, and he'd rather keep Bruce and Loki on good terms. As far as anyone knew, maybe Tony had managed to get Jarvis to post the picture, and that was the story he was sticking to.

Of course, Tony couldn't know that Bruce had captioned the damn photo too. So obviously triumphant he remained.

Smirking, Loki caught Tony and trapped him under his arm, ruffling his hair in a way that looked kinda painful,

Tony grunted when Loki grabbed him and messed up his already-unruly hair, flailing his arms in a weak defense. "H–hey!" he growled, trying to playfully extract himself.

"See, Stark? That is how a minion should behave," Loki said in his haughtiest voice before letting him go, and the moment of sympathy was gone, leaving only satisfaction.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy. Minion, blegh. Bruce just likes getting gold stars. Now gimme my phone back," Tony grunted again when he was let go, snatching the device and smoothing his hand through his tousled hair. But it was strange, Tony's cheeks burning from the god's roughhousing.

In a way, he missed the closeness.

Loki grinned, triumphant, and got up from the seat, a bit wobbly from sleep. "So. Who would like to eat lunch?" he asked, already walking to the kitchen. "Come along, do not dawdle," he said to his ducklings over his shoulder, smiling gently at them. He was in a good mood from his recent victory over Stark's obnoxiousness and his nap. He had dreamed of a life after defeating Thanos, which had featured Stark and Banner not imprisoning him or packing him back to Asgard, but inviting him to live with them.

Watching Loki go, Bruce leaned over to Tony and murmured, "You have no sense of self preservation, do you?" Then he licked his lips nervously and quietly offered a fist for Tony to bump.

"Uhh... Pretty much, nope," Tony chuckled, whispering back and fist-bumping his partner in crime.

"Got them on your Tumblr," he said with a mischievous smile.

"Sweet, Tumblr? Really? Ahahaha, that's perfect." It was hard not to gloat. Oh, well, he was sure someone in Loki's office would pick up on the picture — or hell, anyone in the world, really — and the god would get wind of it. It would sweet, sweet revenge.

Tony was already thinking of what the numbers would be like on his Tumblr now — and the rumors of his return, since the CEO of Stark Industries had been absent for the last few months. He mentally cackled at the image of Loki sleeping, rubbing his hands together as Bruce and he moved to follow the God of Not-Really-Chaos-Anymore-But-Instead-God-of-World- Changing-Speeches-And-Sleepy-Kitten-Faces.

"By the way," Bruce said casually, "you are blushing. Is there anything you'd like to tell your science bro and partner in posting incriminating pictures?"

Tony blinked at Bruce as if he'd been struck. "Huh? What?" The blush only deepened when Tony tried to hide it, grunting and slapping his palms against his cheeks, as if he'd been doing that to make himself blush instead of anything else. "S–shut up, Bruce," he chuckled, looking towards the kitchen door rather than his friend's piercing stare. "I don't like being rough–housed, that's all," he murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking a little faster so they could catch up.

"Uh–huh," Bruce not-really agreed, but he was willing to play along well enough. Who would have thought it, though? Tony developing a crush on Loki? Shaking his head ruefully, he followed suit, catching up to Tony as he was entering the kitchen. Then, because he had already played for Tony's team, he decided to even out the odds and started muttering in Tony's ear, "Tony and Loki, sitting in a tree—"

"Ngh! What are you, ten!?" Tony hissed before stepping into the kitchen.

"Cease your whispering," Loki ordered from the counter, where from the looks of it he was preparing ground meat. "Stark, turn on the stove and get the iron skillet on, then start slicing the buns. Bruce, you prepare the burger dressings. I trust you can slice tomatoes and wash lettuce?" he asked, making them scatter obediently like good little minions.

Tony gave a warning glance at his friend, holding up a finger to the scientist playfully in warning, before obeying of his own free will, flicking the stove on and rummaging around for said skillet. He was at least thankful the god had recognized his (lack of) cooking talent and gave him a few of the easier tasks.

Bruce grinned and elbowed Tony in the ribs when he passed by him. He mouthed '_Hamburgers,_' at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and then got out a knife and the vegetables from the fridge.

Tony hardened his glare, the rosiness of his cheeks returning with a vengeance. Fuck. _'Coincidence!?'_ he mouthed back in a weak attempt to combat Bruce's silent onslaught.

Tony flicked a quick glance to Loki to see if he'd noticed anything, but thankfully he was too engrossed in the cooking process. Jesus, he had to get control over this. Tony took a few deep breaths and mentally slapped himself for acting like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Maybe it was just the food or something. Or being locked away for a very long time without so much as a hug from anyone else.

He couldn't really like Loki like that.

... Right?

"Heeey. Since when did you and Bruce get so buddy-buddy?" Tony pouted, looking between the Asgardian and Banner while feigning hurt, pushing out his lower lip while the skillet was set over the fire.

"Since we slept together last night," Loki answered carelessly, shaping the ground meat into discs, unaware that 'sleeping together' was a Midgardian idiom that meant he same as 'lie together' did in Asgard. For, after all, people that lay together didn't do much sleeping, and usually one left before the sleep came.

Banner sputtered beside him, and Loki watched him curiously. His face was red and he was looking at Stark, shaking his head profusely. "No — I — He," he stammered, at a loss for words, waving his hands at the pouting Stark in the universal Not-Me gesture.

Tony barked with laughter at the same time Bruce sputtered with embarrassment. He knew his friend too well to believe that he'd sleep with Loki — could he even get, er, _excited_ without Hulking out? — but the thought was funny anyway. "Damnit, hahahaha. I wish I had had my phone then," Tony snorted, leaving the skillet alone and moving to collect the bread and a knife. He chanced a smirk at Loki.

Oblivious, Loki continued, putting the ready burgers on a tray to cook later. "It suppose I should apologise for that, Bruce," he said with a small sheepish grin, "I forgot _Anthony_ had reclaimed his room." He turned his smirk on Stark when he said his name so pointedly merely because the man had only moments ago complained that Loki wasn't using it.

"Again, it's Tony. _Tony,_" Tony groaned. Such a particular little billionaire, wasn't he?

Loki ignored him. "I shall make _your_ favourite dish for dinner tonight, Banner, if you are agreeable." He didn't notice the small war going on behind him, where Bruce and Tony were having a quiet foodfight with the rejected bits of lettuce and tomato.

"So, is that why you are making burgers?" Bruce enquired, staying still and hiding the tomato piece he had been about to toss at Tony, "because they are Tony's favourite?"

Loki laid the first batch of burgers on the skillet and was rewarded with a beautiful _hiss_. "Of course," he answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I have found that plying Anthony with food works a lot better than threatening him. Do you take cheese and bacon on your hamburgers? Or is lettuce and tomato enough? " he asked Stark.

Who was busy trying to stuff lettuce refuse down the front of Bruce's shirt when they paused. He looked when Loki turned to him, like a deer in the headlights before ... stuffing it down Bruce's shirt anyway. "Ha!" he grinned, turning to the god. "Oh, my God, cheese and bacon and everything please," he murmured happily, unable to hide the sparkle in his eyes. "W–wha?"

Fuck. was he blushing?

Loki regarded him quizzically when he noticed the pink cheeks. "Are you feeling well? You look flushed." He didn't want Stark getting sick, though his natural defenses were probably low from his time in captivity. He would have to procure some oranges for the next day's breakfast, if that was the case.

"Oh! Yeah..." Tony coughed into his hand, narrowing his gaze at Bruce again. "Yeah. Might be getting sick. Y'know. It was cold down in the workshop last night so..." '_Shut up, Bruce.'_

Bruce calmly picked the bits of lettuce out from under his shirt and mimed zipping his lips shut, but he was smiling like a loon. Nope, no chance of the Other Guy resurfacing right now. "Yeah, you should buy him a Snuggie," he commented, presenting Loki with the slices of tomato and the washed lettuce leaves.

"Oh, God, do _not_ buy me a Snuggie," Tony huffed, eating the last bits of lettuce (Stark? Eating healthy?) rather than use them as artillery. "Orange juice is acceptable though." Tony let himself look haughty, nodding like a royal king before laughing and getting ready to start slicing the first bun.

"What on _Earth_ is a snuggie?" Loki asked, perplexed, in the middle of getting out the bacon and cheddar cheese slices. "And anyway, I already noted to buy oranges. I seem to recall reading somewhere their juice is good for preventing illness." He flipped the burgers, added a slice of cheese on each, and covered them with the lids of one of the pots so the cheese would melt.

"It's a blanket with sleeves," Bruce laughed.

He vaguely heard Loki's response of "I see how such a thing could be useful," but he paid it no mind.

Finding himself unoccupied, Bruce started frying strips of bacon. "Tony, do you like your bread toasted? Because if you do, you have to do it yourse—" He cut himself off when he turned to look at Tony and saw that Loki was standing next to him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, either trying really hard to weird them out or taking his temperature. He'd seen mothers do that with children.

Tony's eyes widened as he looked at Loki — having to look up a little since the other was so damn _tall_. The flush had returned full force to his face, Tony almost nearly dropping the freaking bread knife on their toes out of shock. At first, he'd tensed from fear — he had to work past it quickly, Loki wasn't going to hurt him and he knew it — which dissolved into other, completely different things.

The man flicked a quick look at Bruce before back to Loki. "What are you doing...?" he trailed off, almost mesmerized by Loki's brilliant, emerald eyes from this close. The only other times he'd really been able to appreciate their color from this distance was when he'd been drugged, and the fleeting moment just as Loki had woken up only a few moments ago...

"Checking your temperature," Loki murmured as if were obvious. "Hm, you do not appear to be running a fever," he concluded, pulling back, but not without noticing that Tony seemed to become redder and more flustered when Loki—

_Oh_. Well then. In that case...

"_Tony_," he murmured, cupping him under the chin and looking deeply into his eyes, seeing how the pupils dilated. "Would you be a dear and set the table? The first batch is almost done."

Tony barely noticed Loki's correction past the blood rushing in his ears. He almost shivered from the god's little touches before clearing his throat and nodding. When Loki, grinning, stepped away to save said batch from burning, he took his chance to escape quickly. The knife and bread were forgotten (sorry Bruce!) as he quickly grabbed the plates and silverware, scooting out of the kitchen and clutching everything to him as he all but dashed out.

"Oh, my God, you _stupid _fuck," Tony hissed at himself under his breath. What the actual hell was going on?

He grunted, seemingly angry at himself for losing his cool — because Tony freaking Stark did _not_ lose his cool, _ever_ — while he began setting the plates down. Counting out the silverware and setting them beside each plate did little to help too, but he figured he'd linger out here and put out some napkins if just to have some time to cool off first.

Back in the kitchen, Loki blinked at the archway, instantly feeling both terrible for teasing Stark like that and very chuffed at the regard he seemed to have inspired in him. "Maybe I should not tease him so much," he pondered, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

He would refrain from mocking the mortal for his apparent and uncalled for infatuation with Loki. Mostly because he knew it would pass soon enough, but partly because he found himself actually liking him, and while Stark's flushed face was funny, it wouldn't do to alienate his best ally over such a silly thing. Still, he couldn't help but feel flattered.

"So you know, then," Banner said from behind him, making him turn.

Loki had completely forgotten he was there. "Only now figured it out, yes," he admitted, abashed. "I do not intend on, er, taking advantage, if that is what worries you." He knew people in Midgard were fond of protecting their friends and family's 'hearts' — the definition of that varied from person to person, some meaning 'chastity', others 'feelings', sometimes both.

Bruce scoffed. "Nah, just give him some time to get back on his feet and he'll be giving as good as he's getting. I think he's just as surprised as you," he explained, getting the bacon onto a plate.

Loki grabbed another plate and started getting out the first batch, starting on the second. He didn't know how many homemade burgers constituted a meal, but he figured three each should be more than enough. Poor Stark, he thought as he laid down the second batch, this time of five. The man's life had already undergone an upheaval not three days before.

Arranging the numerous dressings on a tray, Bruce readied to carry them all to the table. "Hm, it's probably Stockholm Syndrome," he thought aloud. "Just... Be gentle. I mean, in general. He looks so strong but..." But Bruce feared Tony was actually very fragile. He didn't need to say that out loud, though; he could see Loki understood.

"I know," the alien said. "I am trying my best to fix... my mistakes." He didn't elaborate on what mistakes those might be, but he thought Banner could guess. "Why... do you not ask the same for yourself, though?"

Bruce shrugged, but said nothing. He didn't know the answer. With one last look at Loki, he gave him a small, shy smile, and took the tray to the table.

* * *

Tony was still standing — he _hated_ being idle just as much as he hated losing his cool — and so he'd set to folding the napkins every which way, trying to find just what might look fancy enough. He knew a few folding things thanks to his random business trips to various European and Asian countries, picking up a thing or two here and there. He still remembered the one time he and Obadiah had flown back from Tokyo and he was given shit because he couldn't stop folding paper cranes out of receipts the entire flight.

_Obadiah..._

He frowned to himself. Did he have to go down that train of thought too? Seriously? Tony grunted and reached for more napkins, settling for more traditional, Japanese origami. _This _was why he hated being alone: his mind went every which way. And much of Tony Stark's mind lay in darkness he would rather lock away behind bars like he'd been, never to see the light of day.

And Loki was a smart guy. He'd likely figured it out. Tony thumped the heel of his palm against his forehead and moaned, "Stupid," taking a seat in one of the chairs and undoing a cone fold in favor of a bishop's hat. He remembered these from a trip to Cologne. He'd been hitting big time on one of the saucy waitresses then and she'd given him a lesson on napkin folding etiquette. And later a lesson on how many ways a body could bend during coitus.

Tony sighed and set his head down, surrounded by a crown of folded animals that all seemed to be staring blankly at their creator. He heard Bruce come in and lifted his head, looking a bit lost in the short time since the last time he'd seen him.

"I didn't know you could do origami," Bruce said, putting unloading the tray among the paper animals. "Here, help me with this. Loki's bringing the burgers and buns. Do you want any condiment?"

"Oh! Uhm, yeah," Tony bounced back, setting himself back into place and parting the sea of animals, helping Bruce. "Condiments? Uh, sure," he nodded. Tony wasn't going to hold back on his wants. He'd never done so before.

"You know," Bruce said, sitting down, confident Jarvis would inform Loki on Tony's request for mustard, ketchup and mayo, "Loki is totally spoiling you. I mean, homemade burgers? I don't think I've eaten homemade burgers in _my life_."

"And I have never prepared such before," Loki answered, appearing as if from nowhere right behind them, making Tony jump, "so I hope you will give me constructive criticism. There you go, Anthony." He placed the plate with the cooked burgers, browned to perfection and covered in melted cheddar, right in front of him. "There are three for each of us, though only buns for six. Warning you now," he added, also setting the basket with the lightly toasted buns.

He stood behind Tony, his hands resting on his shoulders lightly.

Tony nearly leaned his head back into Loki's stomach like one would with someone they trusted. It was just one of those weird kinds of days. But he'd said as much right? Loki and Bruce had _slept_ together — haha! — and that had been the kickstarter of the morning.

Then Loki pulled back, but hesitantly, his hands wanting to linger on Tony. Still, he sat down and started assembling a sandwich, with bacon, lettuce and tomato, before passing to Tony. "There you go, eat up." He assembled another for himself, trusting Bruce would be able to provide for himself, and his eyes fluttered shut as he chewed the first bite.

_Oh_. Well, now he knew why this kind of fare was Tony's favourite. He couldn't wait to try Bruce's vindaloo, after.

"Huh. The world's first dictator chef," Tony chuckled as he accepted his burger with a thanks. The fact that Loki didn't prepare Bruce one did not go unnoticed. "Uhm, seriously. Thanks," he restated, looking down at his burger as he dressed it up with condiments. "You really don't have to do all this... Not that I'm complaining. But I mean, you have a world to run. I can always order take out," he smiled, before taking the first bite.

And almost dying. It was _amazing._

Bruce seemed of a mind, not saying anything about Loki serving Tony but not him, instead smiling. "These are good, Loki, very good. Tony, when this is over, please hire him to cook for you and invite me. Pretty please?"

"I will shoot myself if I forget any of that, Bruce. I'm totally doing that," the engineer laughed, thinking about how funny it would be to hire someone who'd threatened the world only to lock you up and become its ruler and savior simultaneously. Holy crap, his life was never straightforward, was it?

Which made him think. He should probably start holding up on his end. "Oh, before I forget to ask, any news on Fury's whereabouts? I think I'd like to give one of my suits a test run and pay them a visit, see how that goes. Maybe I can get them to stop shooting down all our guns."

That gave Loki pause, distracted as he was flipping the cooking burgers at a distance with his magic. "Not — not really, no," he answered when the deed was done, including the cheese and lid. "We know some of his group are in Canada, while the rest is in either Sweden or France." He made a moue of disappointment.

"Yeesh," Tony nodded before smiling smugly. "That's gonna be a bit of a flight..." He hummed, biting at his burger and chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. Best not let food fly anywhere.

"My people have not been able to find them, for it seems all the good, er, I believe the term is 'Hackers', are with him, and Jarvis couldn't help because of some safeguards you cleverly installed. It is partly the reason why I decided to use you."

It sounded so cold, like that, but it was the truth. He hadn't let Stark out because of sentiment or decency, but out of need. And he hated that part of himself, the one that thought so coldly in terms of cost and benefit. He hoped to get this whole thing over with soon, and maybe, yes, why not, retire and dedicate his time to pampering these mortals he had wronged so much.

Let it never be said that Loki didn't pay his debts.

Tony's brown eyes glimmered though, his posture straightening a little. He loved a bit of a challenge. "_Hacking_ huh? Me and Jarv can handle that, no prob. Besides, I'm pretty sure they've set up their systems to _let _me find them. Last time they saw me, I was a captive. They were probably just waiting for me to break out and find them."

Because Tony Stark himself was a weapon of weapons. He was needed on both sides of this civil war.

"So we'll have to track them ourselves, then," Bruce said around a mouthful of the best meal he'd ever tasted, though he was pretty sure he would think that of every meal Loki cooked.

Loki nodded, nabbing a slice of tomato and sucking it into his mouth pensively. "And simultaneously design better planetary defence and parley with them, yes. Speaking of, how are the guns coming?" he asked Tony. "Or have you designed completely different weaponry?" He noticed the man was done with his burger and assembled another for him without being asked, even re-heating the meat with a spark of magic.

What? He enjoyed watching Stark eat what he'd cooked.

The inventor was busy floating around in heaven while he was eating when Loki suddenly addressed him. He blinked and looked over, a piece of lettuce hanging from his lips before he sucked it up and tried to answer. A glint of pride shone in Tony's eyes.

"Oh, the guns are coming alright, yep. They're still in the works but it shouldn't take me too long. A lot of it is building up from what you already had made and what I already had planned... er... before all this," Tony smiled sheepishly. He didn't trust anyone really, and so he'd tried to prepare for the worst. He had to look sheepishly at Bruce too. Even Bruce. That's why Tony had built the Hulk Buster way back when.

Bruce stared at him. "So, just checking if I'm getting this right. You planned for _an alien invasion_?" The mind boggled at the thought. "Before the existence of aliens was even confirmed?"

"Well I mean, the theory of life beyond our galaxy wasn't _that_ improbable, right? My research and development just... snowballed when we discovered Thor's arrival in New Mexico." Tony shrugged as if it were no big deal, looking between the two and taking another bite.

Loki was as stunned as Banner. He had thought he was the only one that plans for hypothetical situations that may never even come to happen. But, "Nevermind that," he said abruptly, "how quickly can you come up with a finished design? I need to halt production of the current model, if the one you came up with is better." He didn't want sub-par weaponry defending his adopted planet.

Tony swallowed before answering again. "I'd say... give me tonight and tomorrow and you'll have your gun designs. I've gone over what we know of the Chitauri and I've calibrated the guns with a setting to lock specifically on targets that share the same identifiers. And that's only _one_ function."

Loki's planning team would be overjoyed. He hadn't yet told them of his decision to recruit Stark to the cause. It would sure earn him some very serious brownie points, whatever those were. Then he remembered he still had the Tesseract. And the Casket. "Stark," he started, his hand flying to Stark's and resting on it urgently; then he amended, "Tony. I have the Tesseract in my possession. I never gave it to — I still have it. Do you think you could work with that?"

Tony's breathed hitched once, as Loki lay a hand on his own. He swallowed thickly. "What? Oh...!" he sat up even straighter, almost forgetting his burger. The old Tony was slowly trickling back, eager for work. That it was work for a cause made it even better, somehow. "Hell _yeah_ that would help. I might be able to design a way to remotely route power to our guns from the Tesseract's central location. We just have to keep it safe, hidden." Tony winked. "And I know how to hide things pretty well, if I do say so myself."

Loki grinned, letting go of Tony's hand with a parting squeeze. "Most excellent! I have it on me, right now. I store the sensitive, er, _luggage_ on my person, in an extra-dimensional pocket. Teaching you how to access it should not be terribly difficult, since you are clever," he didn't even realise he was heaping on the praise, for he wasn't doing it with intent. It just came out naturally. "Yet, for now, I believe it is best if I keep it on me. Tell me when you want it."

"Wow... So you _can _perform apportation," Tony blinked. So Loki could just store things in a whole 'nother plane of existence? That was crazy, and another theory prove true. "I'm totally going to have to pick your brain on how that works after all this." In fact... Tony was rather hoping they could keep Loki around long after all this... Weird. "Sounds good. I'll probably ask for access to it later on tonight. I have to calibrate the weaponry to recognize and properly harness its power first, they have to have receptors for it first."

Bruce was regarding them both his raised eyebrows, suddenly feeling very much like a third wheel but loving watching them interact. "Loki, the burgers that were cooking...?" he reminded the invader-cum-overlord.

Loki jumped, tearing his eyes from Stark. "Oh, yes! Gratitude for the reminder!" he said, waving his hand. Soon enough, the skilled with the burgers came flying from the kitchen, coming to a stop midair over the table.

Tony blinked when the skillet flew over like a scene out of Fantasia. He poked it with his knife, making it bob in midair. "Seriously, I am _never_ going to get used to that."

Smirking, Loki grabbed one burger for Tony and two for Bruce and himself, before sending the still hot skillet back. "Eat, eat, I must leave soon. I must tell the news to my planning committee."

Bruce look up sharply, pausing in the middle of adding lettuce over one of his burgers, and shared disbelieving a look with Tony. "_You_ have a planning committee?"

"Naturally," Loki said, magicking cold water into his glass, and Tony's and Bruce's, when he realised there were no beverages on the table. "I know well the value of teamwork. Well, it helps that I have touched a couple or two of them with my scepter." He ignored Tony's amused look at his phrasing, merely rolling his eyes. "I _have _tried to make as few changes as possible, which you will notice if you take a stroll outside. Advice from diplomats and politicians has been invaluable."

Tony thanked the deity for his burger and water, feeling almost full by now — surprisingly! — and tipping his head to the side. "So... what happens to those you get your 'magic fingers' on?" he snorted. "Are you going to let them go when everything's all done and over with? I don't know if the Avengers will be able to tolerate well... loss of free will." Not that that really concerned a dictator, but still. There were so many big questions to be asked when this was all done and over with.

One step at a time, Tony.

Loki looked pensive. "In all honestly, it is not their free will I manipulate," he explained as he assembled his burger, only foregoing the bun because he found he prefered doing without, and graciously offering the bread to Tony.

Tony wasn't about to refuse the bun, watching Loki eat everything without it curiously. He had to thank the god. It was strange how many times he'd thanked Loki compared to every single thanks he'd ever given in his previous life — because there were so few instances where he had needed to thank anyone.

Loki continued, "It is their, er, heart, I suppose you could say. Their allegiance?" he trailed off, searching for the right word. "No, that is not right. At any rate, no one has control over their feelings and instincts anyway. I merely change, what is the word... their 'default setting'?"

Bruce blinked, and he had to laugh at the image of Loki, space viking extraordinaire, using modern electronic vernacular. But the subject matter at hand, however... "So you do not actually control them like puppets?"

Loki shook his head. "Not at all. Well, there are orders passed down, as in any hierarchical structure, but their actions are their own. It would be a pain, actively puppeteering nearly a thousand humans. It would leave me no concentration to plan ahead, or indeed take care of myself." He pointedly took a bite of his burger.

Bruce stared, mouth slightly agape. He didn't know which was worse, though. Being controlled was terrible, but at least one would have the comfort that your actions weren't your own. On the other hand... If Bruce understood what Loki was saying, then the people under his spell _did _control their actions, everything they did was of their own free will, only they did it on purpose to help Loki in his cause out of... love? respect? admiration? All the betrayals and monstrosities they committed for Loki... were all things they were capable of already, with just the right push.

The conversation had Tony pause the chewing. He wasn't thinking about the implications like Bruce was doing, instead wondering whether or not Loki had 'touched' him while he'd been drugged and asleep, not laughing at the amusing wording because _shit_, the thought was scary. He didn't look _as _perturbed about everything as Bruce did, but he was still a like green around the edges.

Loki paused in his chewing, noticing the sudden cessation of movement, and looked up.

The mortals were _horrified_, he realised suddenly, controlling his features so as not to look ashamed. He was, though; ashamed of not feeling bad for what he had done. He had thought his solution _so clever_ and much better than the alternative of really controlling people, since he prized free will above all else; clearly, he had been mistaken.

He swallowed around the constriction in his throat. "But let us not quibble over semantics," he hurried to say, looking uncaring but unable to meet either Stark's or Banner's eyes. "To answer your question, Sta— _Tony_," he paused and blinked, overcoming his almost-slip, "I shall let them go afterwards. There will be no need to keep them under my spell. I..." He trailed off, unsure how to end that sentence.

'_I shall apologise to them_'? '_I am sorry I had to do it in the first place'_? '_I am an unlovable monster that requires to cheat by use of magic in order to get people to like him_'? Well, certainly not that one. He would never admit that out loud, though it was patently obvious to anyone who spent more than seven days in his presence. Even when he was at his most charming and fake, people noticed over extended periods of time, and avoided him. He was sure Stark would follow that path soon enough.

Oh, but that look. Tony watched the complicated, self-deprecating thoughts crossing the Loki's pale face. And... the urge to comfort the god was there, as strange and sudden and deep inside of him like some rampant tumor.

At last, Loki shook his head slightly and finished his sentence."I should leave; the meeting is bound to resume any moment now." He bit his lip anxiously and shoved what was left of the burger into his mouth, then stood up, chewing, and called his shoes and suit jacket to him. He put the on and, swallowing, he stood up without looking at his captives. "You can share my last burger. I am not hungry." No, on the contrary, his stomach was churning unpleasantly.

"Wait, Loki—" Tony stood, but before he could say anything else, Loki cut him off.

"I shall be home for dinner," the alien god said quickly, vanishing (and appearing instead in the meeting room, where one the ex-minister of Defense smiled at grinned at him from behind luminous blue eyes).

Loki was gone and Tony was left looking sheepish and embarrassed at Bruce while he stood staring at the spot the god had just been standing there previously. It had been the same haunted, guilty look that Loki had sported when he'd eaten at the table for the very first time, alone with Loki. There were a lot of misconceptions he had to throw away about the God of Lies. It was all smokescreen... Maybe that's why Tony empathized. Because he _knew_.

"You know..." he said, trying to salvage the situation with humor. As he always did. "I always expect him to leave a Loki-shaped puff of smoke whenever he does that," Tony chuckled half-heartedly, not looking at Bruce but the spot still. He could almost see where his shoes left impressions in the carpet. He cleared his throat, finally looking at Bruce. "Alright. Let's bring this downstairs. I've got some designs to make so I can surprise him before dinner."

If Loki couldn't come down to see them, he'd bring them to the god. It was enough incentive to finish his work even faster, however. Because he realized he wanted to wipe that hurt look from the god's face and replace it with something better.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 6th of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki looked around, sighing, and dragged a hand over his face. Mothering instincts towards Stark, he could understand as mainly fueled by residual guilt. Guilt which he had no business feeling in the first place, considering his treatment of Stark, understood as a political prisoner, was well within Loki's rights. Still, he found himself warming alarmingly quickly to the man, amused and interested in him, thinking of him when he wasn't present, even possessive of him, to a degree..._

_Sentiment. Oh, how he hated it. It was always so confusing._

* * *

**End notes: **Yeah, this is what I meant... Feelings are happening so fast, arghhh. *hangs head in shame* This is what happens when writing a day takes two people a week...

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	6. Good PR

**Chapter Title: **Good PR

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **None!

**Chapter Summary: **Tony is crushing big time. He and Bruce make curry for dinner. Spicy food is not compatible with Loki's Jotun-hood.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Everyone seemed in high spirits when the meeting started, and since Loki was a showman, he opened by telling them he had Stark working with him, designing new weapons. He noticed how some in the room scoffed, but before he could chastise them for their disbelief, one of the women that handled the law-making body was handed money by her male co-worker.

"Told you," she said, smugly putting the money away, calling the attention of the whole room.

"Shush, you," he muttered, blushing slightly and rolling his eyes.

"What was that about?" the minister of education asked, puzzled.

The woman blinked and looked nervously to Loki. "I don't think this is the time... We're in the middle of a meeting. I'll show you later," she promised.

But Loki, smiling in a way that looked pleasant to anyone who didn't know him, gestured to her to answer, as he wanted to know as well. "No, no, I mind not. Please, do share the joke," he said, his eyes glittering frostily.

The woman blanched, but Loki hadn't chosen cowards for his team. She got an iPad out from her briefcase, tapped at it a few times and then turned it around so everyone at the table could see it. Many eyebrows were raised, a few people turned to peer at Loki while others — mostly the women and one of the gay men — cooed softly, and Loki himself looked stony.

"What. Is. That?" he asked, confronted with his own sleeping face, complete with a line of drool coming from his mouth. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance — he knew what it was, but he didn't know how on Yggdrasil the picture could have reached the internet. The picture had a number written above it. Over nine million.

"I–it's, ah, Tumblr, Sir," the grown woman stuttered, her skin blotchy as it her complexion couldn't decide whether to blush or pale. "The s–source of the picture is listed as t–Tony Stark's blog. Which means h–he posted it."

The man to Loki's right, a NASA representative, coughed as if embarrassed for her sake.

Loki pinned him with his eyes like a bug. "The money." It wasn't a question, it was an order, and at least two thirds of the room winced at his cold, dead tone.

The woman, braver than most, explained, "I f–figured, the only w–way Stark would have that picture is i–if he took himself. And f–for that, well, Sir, you must have freed h–him and be k–keeping him under close watch, p–possibly living with you."

Smart girl. Loki was reluctantly proud. "And the number above it?" He was a greater deal calmer, but he enjoyed watching them squirm. It was not their fault if Stark had somehow managed to post the picture despite Banner helping Loki delete it.

The NASA guy took pity on her and answered. "That's the number of times it has been liked or reblogged." When Loki arched an eyebrow at him, silently requesting an explanation on how he had come to be so knowledgeable about that website, the man flushed. "My daughter has one. My wife found it years ago; we use it to get ideas for presents," he shrugged, unapologetic.

Several of the officials looked impressed at that last sentence.

Loki hummed. "Very well. So now we all know how I look when I sleep," he sighed, rolling his eyes, and a few relieved titters filled the room. He gave a small smirk. "Indeed, Stark has agreed to work with us completely. And Doctor Banner as well."

The atmosphere in the room became almost celebratory. Loki had known the knowledge that their heroes had decided to join their cause would raise moral, but he had underestimated just how much.

"Stark will have the new designs ready by tomorrow night at most," he told them for the hell of it, "and then he has agreed to be our ambassador to the SHIELD resistance." There were actual _whoop_s of cheer this time, and he couldn't resist a small, proud smile. "Now, moving onto China and Russia, what news to we have on that front?" he asked, wanting to move the meeting along so he could be home in time for dinner.

* * *

Tony cackled like a madman, goggles on his eyes, hair mussed up from his work.

Not only had he overtimed it on the first of the guns — it hadn't taken as long as he'd originally thought. Loki's engineers were still idiots, but they weren't incompetent. And Stark was a genius. He could work from scratch; using other people's plans, while most times it hindered him, had actually helped this time around.

"So what do you think?" he asked Bruce. "They're self-regulating, portable if we can get some heavy-duty transportation out here. Auto-targetting, run off the Tesseract's energy if my research I stole from Fury and SHIELD were of any use (thank you, Dr. Selvig). Oh! And get this. They're completely undetectable when they want to be," he said, flipping through a set of diagrams showing examples of a wire mesh prototype disguising itself. "Polycarbonate head hologram generators."

Tony snapped his fingers, flipping to another design still in the works. "So those were the offensives, and I've still gotta name those... these here will be the Aegis defense systems." He snapped his fingers again and pointed to a structure that looked like a conceptualized tesla tower. "These will set up a self-regulating, defensive shield," he paused. "In theory. I want to drain the shit out of their offensive strikes before they come in — if they even get that far past the satellite defenses, so I've designed them to take a beating. You wanna reign the Hulk in? Build a cage outta this, Baby, and watch the magic."

The engineer wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers still greasy from working on very early, mini prototypes of certain parts for the various designs, testing what worked and what didn't.

"But right, we should take a break." He snuck a glance towards a holographic clock on the wall. "I think we have enough time to prepare something..." Tony looked over at his partner in crime, a small flush on his face. "Ah... if you don't mind helping me that is," he chuckled, obvious that he wanted to prepare a meal for Loki before he got home. "I can build all this shit but I'm no Gordon Ramsay."

Bruce laughed quietly. "You're no Julia Child either, I swear," he said, handing Tony a rag for him to wipe his hands on. "Come on. Let's try to find something you can cook to impress your crush." Maybe Jarvis could help. And Bruce found cooking to be very soothing, when done in group.

Tony Stark spent almost the entire time in the kitchen with Bruce trying to convince him just _how much_ Loki was _not _his crush. "Ridiculous. Preposterous. Seriously, we need to get your head checked. Or your eyes. Or everything. Seriously." And all the while he couldn't help but feel fluttery inside.

Jesus, he wasn't this bad since his first time with a stunning redhead in the back of his Acura back in (yep) middle school. Late middle school anyway.

He just couldn't get the god's stupid face from his head. It was like someone had lit a fire under whatever weird emotions he was having to suffer through right now, and Tony had on more than one occasion almost burned or hurt himself from the sheer distraction of it all.

But he'd ended up surviving the war with Loki's curry dinner — no! Wait! _Their_ dinner, fuck — and Tony couldn't help but bounce on the balls of his feet, constantly shifting. He was never one to stand still for very long, but he appeared even more antsy now while he waited for the god to return home. At the moment, the engineer was currently trying to grab a spoonful of curry from the pot while Bruce held him back, jumping when he heard the god speak from the threshold.

* * *

Meeting dismissed, Loki stood up. Upon exiting the office, he found his team loitering around in little groups, all arranging to meet for drinks or to watch some sport event or other. He smiled at them, content in the knowledge that life went on, regardless of imminent danger, impending war, and rising taxes. He had left his briefcase in the Oval Office, which was the only reason he was still there and not teleporting back home already.

"Hey, Boss, the Stock Market people and I will be meeting for drinks tonight," a woman asked, her eyes a welcoming chocolate brown that reminded him of Stark's. "We'll probably end up making bets on which companies will rise, but still... Wanna come?"

Loki smiled genuinely, warmth filling his chest. "I would love you," he said truthfully, "but I have to return to Stark Tower to check that Stark has not set it on fire." That was a joke, and the woman laughed appreciatively. Or flirtatiously; it happened so rarely for him that he had never learned the difference. "But no, really. I ought to meet with him and Banner to oversee their work." He knew she would understand what _work_ he meant. "Maybe after this whole mess is over, yes?"

The woman seemed disappointed. "Yes, you poor soul. At least tell me you are taking care of yourself properly."

"I am," Loki answered, smiling. "You have proof I have been sleeping well, at least," he winked daringly, startling a laugh out of her and everyone within earshot. "I am also making sure Stark takes care of himself, which wastes a great deal of time."

A man behind him barked out in laughter. "Oh, man, yeah, I worked with him before. A man-child, he is," he said, nodding sagely, but stopping when he saw Loki frowning at him. "Sorry."

"Guard your comments," Loki snapped, not liking his tone. He was the only one allowed to mock Stark. He shook his head, annoyed at the sentiment. "Apologies. I daresay I am tired. I shall leave now."

A chorus of "Bye, Boss," and "See you tomorrow," sounded as he walked to his stolen office, retrieving his briefcase.

He looked around, sighing, and dragged a hand over his face. Mothering instincts towards Stark, he could understand as mainly fueled by residual guilt. Guilt which he had no business feeling in the first place, considering his treatment of Stark, understood as a political prisoner, was well within Loki's rights. Still, he found himself warming alarmingly quickly to the man, amused and interested in him, thinking of him when he wasn't present, even possessive of him, to a degree...

Sentiment. Oh, how he hated it. It was always so confusing.

Unsettled, he teleported home, his body still going to Stark's room by flesh memory. No matter — neither Stark nor Banner were there, and only Jarvis witnessed him slapping his head repeatedly in chastisement when he realised he was in the wrong room by force of habit. But nevermind, crossing over to his own room was easy enough, as was dumping the briefcase on the bed.

On second thought, he changed out of the uncomfortable, if stylish, suit and into equally stylish but more comfortable clothes, a green turtleneck that hugged his upper body, showing off his arms, and worn — or as worn as they could get in three months — black jeans. Then he realised he might as well have dressed for a date, and that it might give Stark the wrong idea — and he decided to keep them and see what reaction they garnered from _Tony._

Smirking slightly, he put on the fuzzy slippers Jarvis had ordered from him — presumably as a joke, since they imitated little reindeer — and exited his bedroom, set on looking for Stark. He didn't need to look far — the smell of curry hit his nose as soon as he exited the corridor that led to the bedrooms, and when he stood in the living room, he could hear the din in the kitchen. They had _cooked_ for him — Loki was speechless.

Smiling like a loon, he walked into the kitchen, catching Tony trying to sample the curry and Bruce bodily holding him back. They didn't notice him. Good, it gave him time to reign in his smile."Good evening, gentlemen," he said, face as stony as he could get it, which admittedly wasn't much.

"_Whoashit,"_ Tony flailed, almost faling over onto Bruce before catching himself and hugging the spoon to his chest protectively. Fuck, they hadn't even set the table yet. Ah well, you couldn't really predict the schedule of a teleporting dictator from outer space, could you?

"Oh, uh. Hey," Tony grinned, unable to help taking in what Loki was wearing. Did... everything have to be so... clingy? He swallowed and turned to grab plates, chuckling as he realized Loki's slippers. "H–hahah. Adorable. Now I can call you Reindeer Games. Though... I do think I was starting to settle on Goldilocks. Here. Your turn to set the table, yeah?" he waggled a brow and headed over, passing Loki the plates and silverware.

Not missing the way Anthony looked him up and down, or the way his adam's apple bobbed as he did, Loki arched an eyebrow at him, as if asking if he was serious.

Then snapped his fingers. The tablecloth flew from where it was folded, unfolding on the way as it rounded the column, and the plates jumped from Tony's fingers, as did the silverware, flying towards the table, setting themselves in the proper places. Napkins and glasses followed, even a small wicker basket that filled with pieces of bread.

"Whoa!" Like he said before, Tony was never going to get used to that.

Like a fucking movie, Loki easily bade the table to set itself, Tony's eyes wide with surprise as everything was put into place quickly.

Smirking, Loki said, "Snap, the job is done."

Bruce burst out laughing, bending over and curling a hand around his ribs as if physically holding them together.

Tony pouted, grunting up at the god. "Hey! Well, take away my little victories, why don't you?" he huffed and looked around Loki towards the table. "I'm so going to invent something to do all that," he waggled his hands, "so I can do that too."

He stuck a tongue out, enjoying being a bit closer so he could appreciate the god's new attire. Seriously, it wasn't often (see: never) that he saw Loki in more casual clothing. It was a strange thing, considering he'd only ever seen the god in either battle armor — he meant to ask of Loki still kept that around — and suits. But he was digging this new look, the appreciation standing out painfully obvious in his eyes.

Bruce's laughing caught his attention though, the engineer peeling his gaze from Loki to his friend. "What the hell's got you so cracked up?" Tony chuckled, unable to help catching a bit of the contagious laughter.

That sent Bruce into another fit of cackles. "Seriously?" he asked, incredulous, catching Loki's kind smile at Tony's confusion. "Okay, um, Loki was trying to quote Mary Poppins?" he asked. Tony remained blank. Rolling his eyes, he quoted, trying to imitate Julie Andrew's stern tone of voice.

"_In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun_? Ring a bell?" Blushing slightly because Tony was making him sing, he rushed along with the lyrics. "_You find the fun and snap, the job is a game, and every task you undertake becomes a piece of cake._" He noticed Tony barely stifling laughter and narrowed his eyes. "You did that on purpose to hear me sing, didn't you?"

Tony finally let himself snort and clapped his hands, almost bowling over laughing. Oh, God, his sides. "Bravo, bravo, Brucey. If I'm gonna hire Loki to cook, I'm so hiring you to sing," he snorted, wiping a tear from his eyes. He was almost leaning into Loki while he tried to recover from his little laughing bout.

Loki smirked, having caught onto Tony's game as soon as he saw the light of recognition that appeared in his eyes turn into that of mischief. "Of course he did it on purpose," he answered, and then remembered it was _him_ who had brought the conversation to Mary Poppins in the first place. Wanting to direct attention away from that fact, he said, "if the food is ready, we should proceed to the dinner table, yes?"

"Hooooo... H'okay. Right. Table, yeah." Tony petered off, shooing the god to the table and moving to shove his hands into mittens and grab the pot of curry and bring it to the table for everyone. "Bruce, drinks? You," he looked to Loki, "Sit."

Loki's eyebrow did a quirky little jump as if saying '_well, how about that?'_. "Bossy," he observed, but it wasn't an insult, not really. Not when the man was doing this for him, almost waiting on him hand and foot. As if he thought he needed to pay Loki back for something.

Smiling secretly, he turned around and led their small procession to the table, which his magic had set perfectly, down to the millimeter, and sat on his usual spot with the airs he had only ever put on for formal dinners with diplomats, where he had to stay quiet and sit pretty. He observed Stark's serving protocol without judgement, merely noting the man had little precision in gauging how much food was enough for a portion.

Either he was still feeling the hunger from his period in captivity, or he hadn't had much practise in the first place, probably unused to serving spoons and serving straight from the pot. How many homemade meals, Loki wondered, had Tony shared with people? Probably less than he deserved. He remembered the sad state of the fridge and cabinets when he first usurped his home, and how the man kept pausing and staring whenever he opened either, as if continually surprised by how populated they were.

"Gratitude, Tony," he told him upon receiving his plate. He hoped Tony would understand he wasn't just thanking him for serving the food, but also taking care of making dinner for all of them, predicting how tired Loki would be when he arrived and taking care not to aggravate it.

The engineer stuck a tongue out as if concentrating, serving the helpings and hoping that at least it was acceptable. He wasn't a freaking waiter. "Hey, no need to thank me," he cleared his throat, "It was still all mostly Bruce. I just cracked the whip." Tony grinned, wincing a little when he sort of made a little mess on the god's plate.

Loki turned to Bruce. "Then, gratitude to you, Bruce," he told the other man. In exchange, he received a cold beer, and he smiled. "And even more for this."

"No prob. Hope you like that one," Bruce answered, getting his own plate from Tony. "It's a microbrew that Tony likes."

"Then it must be good," Loki answered graciously, observing the had made a bowl with a depression in the rice and serve the curry in it, complete with a poached egg, but the sauce had leaked out and a couple pieces had fallen outside. It was charming, and Loki smiled at him softly. Then he noticed everything was vegetables, and pouted slightly. "There is no meat," he noticed, sounding like a child that didn't get his way.

When he heard the little pout in Loki's voice, Tony actually smiled and looked to Bruce, moving to the other man to serve him too — to make a point to Bruce that no, Loki _wasn't_ his crush! "Yeah can also thank Bruce for that. I'm in the same boat buddy but hey, if I had gotten to try it," a pointed look at the scientist, "I could've told you it's gonna be great anyway."

The billionaire set the pot down one he'd served himself a good bit and sat, picking up his fork and looking to Loki. He didn't touch his food despite the deep hunger that bid him to, instead settling for waiting and watching the god to make the first move. That hopeful look returned as he waited.

"I keep telling you, Tony, it would be too heavy with meat," Bruce said, pushing up his glasses since he had taken out his contacts to cook. "It still has protein, I put eggs in it, didn't I?" But he still didn't touch it, following Tony's lead. He was very intrigued by what Loki's reaction to the spicy food would be.

Loki, of course, felt the weight of the stares, but as an ex-prince of Asgard, he was used to being the center of attention, and not always in the good way. "I feel pressured," he murmured almost inaudibly, reaching for his fork and using it to shovel some rice and sauce into his mouth.

The spice was strong, more concentrated than he was used to, and it startled him. He gasped involuntarily, and droplets of the hot, spicy sauce hit the back of his throat. He coughed at the same time he tried not to cough, and the result was that he swallowed automatically, let out a strangled cough, and his eyes watered.

The god's sudden coughing bout set Tony on edge, leaning forward in his chair to maybe pat the other's back before he was waved away. Instead, biting his tongue, he offered Loki his beer. "Here," he murmured quickly, uncaring whether Bruce saw just how concerned he looked.

Chewing as fast as he could, Loki swallowed, finally giving his body what it wanted, and took a deep breath. He grabbed the proffered beer, luckily opened, and he took a greedy swallow, followed by a deep breath. He knew his face was red and hot, and probable sweaty, and he pressed the cool bottle to his cheek. Then he looked up, embarrassed, and saw Tony's concerned face.

"A bit spicy," he croaked, his voice hoarse, "but the ale does go very well with it." He gave them both a wobbly smile. "It _does_ taste good, however. I will beseech you to hold back on the spices in the future, however," he winked, his voice still shot.

But Loki was fine, just a bit surprised by the flavor. "H–Haha, whoops. Sorry. I guess I sort of forgot to give a little heads up," Tony winced, looking to his friend again. "You know, if you want something else, we still have a shit ton of stuff in the fridge." And Tony wasn't against getting up and making Loki a sandwich. He paused. Holy shit, how far had he fallen...?

"I–I apologize, Loki," Bruce said hesitantly, unsure of how Loki would receive mistakes. "I learned to make curry in India, they like it spicy." He swallowed nervously and started eating.

Seeing that Loki had at least taken the first bite and that he wasn't dying, Tony finally let himself turn to his own meal and begin forking at it, effectively ruining the nice presentation in favor of tentatively taking the first bite. If he hadn't mentally told himself to take a chill pill, he was pretty sure he would've tried to scarf it all down, no matter how spicy and hot it was.

Loki waved away the apology. "Nevermind, this has already happened to me before," he said, taking another sip of ale and setting it down. Their worry for him had reassured him, belatedly, that they hadn't tried to poison him when the thought crossed his suspicious mind. He tentatively took a second bite, enjoying it much more now that he had anticipated the heat. It really was very good.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, relaxing now that Loki hadn't thrown his fork into Bruce's eye.

Loki smiled self-deprecatingly. "I was a child still, barely two centuries old," he recounted.

'Two centuries...' Tony mouthed with wonder. Jesus, he couldn't even see past being sixty.

"Odin had decided Thor and I were of sufficient age, however, to accompany him on a diplomatic visit to the mountain dwarves." Loki paused to gauge how interested they were in his tale and saw them hanging onto his every word. '_Still got it_,' he told himself, and continued. "As is the norm here as well, mountains tend to be cold and humid, and its inhabitants prefer food that warms them from inside. Elves have magic for that, but is it the height of bad manners for a dwarf to use magic unless it is while working metal."

Bruce had to smile at the thought of baby Loki sitting at the table with the grown ups, trying to look princely. "And they served you spicy food?" he asked, already amused.

"Indeed," Loki laughed. "I had not been expecting it, and no one had thought to warn me that, on preceding visits, the All-Father had complained, on purpose, that his food was not spicy enough, and so they kept cooking for him spicier dishes with each visit." He remembered the choking, the feeling of spicy meat going down the wrong pipe and setting his young lungs afire, the intense fear of dying.

Tony was hanging on every word, enraptured that all this even existed. Before all this, he'd been just theorizing 'magic' and 'gods' and life on other planets. And now here was Loki telling them tales that sounded like they'd been ripped right from the pages of a high fantasy novel. And the thought of a younger Loki was pretty adorable, he had to say; Tony pictured a poised, calm little god who sat there quietly while his bigger, blonde brother made a ruckus.

"One of the dwarves caught me around the middle and pressed up into it suddenly, making me cough everything. Of course, Thor laughed himself silly at my red face and watering eyes, calling me a baby." Loki shrugged. "Even more than a millennium later, he still thought it funny to warn serving wenches not to put too much spice in my food when we supped at inns or taverns during our travels."

Sudden realization hit Tony that Loki was likely the butt end of jokes, probably teased a lot. You didn't just get dark like that over nothing; bullying wasn't enough but it was a start.

Shaking himself out of the cruel remembrance, Loki finished his tale at last, with a moral. "So worry not, my friends. I am hale." He raised his bottle of beer towards Bruce, who met it with his own in a _clink_ of celebration, and then offered it Tony.

The man was frowning a bit when he clinked his bottle against Loki's, peering at the god in almost the same way he looked when he was taking apart a car or a machine with his eyes. But of course, he shook the look from him and took a swig from his beer. The relief it offered from the spices was a godsend. No pun intended. "Well, as long as you're alright with our concoction now," he smiled, taking another pull from his beer. "I'll have to ask you what _your_ favorite foods are."

Loki's eyes went a bit wide as he paused, looking straight at Tony. He felt ridiculously touched at the not-question. "I care not, usually, as long as there is plenty. I eat anything." His appetite was legendary in Asgard, and he was pretty sure some of the tales had leaked to Midgard as well.

"Oh, no, you're not getting off that easily," Tony waggled a finger at Loki's first answer, only to see Loki look... embarrassed? Sad? The engineer tipped his head and regarded the god with a softer eye.

Bruce paused with his fork in midair, looking at him strangely. "Come on, you must have something you like more than other things, right?" He felt a strange kind of pity, seeing Loki look for all the world like it was the first time someone had asked him that question, getting nervous when his answer seemed not to be the one they had expected to hear.

Loki's gaze shifted to Bruce, briefly, before he looked down and shrugged, like a sullen child who was being forced to answer a shameful question. "I... I enjoy fish the most," he confessed, and bit his lip. No one at Asgard liked fish, except poor hunters who had to resort to catching fish when there was no game. It had been one of his most tightly kept secrets.

People had already looked at him like he was a freak for preferring to read a book of stories than to listen to the many boastful tales in the feasting hall, or knowing both magic and how to fight with weapons. They had looked down on him for that, calling him lazy and weak for choosing to use words and magic instead of violence when he was so clearly capable of it. They hated how he tricked animals with traps instead of hunting them honestly, but they sure enjoyed eating his bounty, however dishonorable or boring he behaved in his way of acquiring it.

They knew he enjoyed both the company of females and males of any species, along with some beings of unidentifiable gender, and they laughed at him for it, but they urged him on to tell them stories, morbidly curious bunch that they were. That was another thing: they had hated his skill at lying and manipulation, yet they _loved_ to hear him tell stories. Everyone always said he could give the best bards in the land a run for their money, if only he learned to play an instrument.

No one had been comfortable around him, and he could freely say he had brought it on himself by being sarcastic and cruel in his remarks and unusually observant to better manipulate people. He had been unrepentant in his dalliances and in his appetites and in his actions, never too proud, always sly. But if they had learned he liked _fish, _considered by all to be Jotun chow... Well. They would have thought as much of him as they would the bastard spawn of a crippled jotun and a plague-infested prostitute.

And then the answer came, Tony committing it to memory. While he couldn't cook, he could already list a good couple of places in his head all over the world where he could order some of the finest seafood around. He'd maybe have to abuse that teleporting trick of Loki's at some point. Take him to Thailand. Maybe Hawaii. Maybe even Brazil... He had to wonder though, what was so upsetting over liking fish?

Loki noticed the puzzled looks from the mortals and had to smile. Of course _they_ didn't see anything wrong with his enjoying the taste of fish. "It has to do with my biology." It was the first time he would tell anyone of his _deformity_, and, strangely, he was half excited about it, like when Thor and he would stay up all night telling each other about the time they lost their innocence. "You see, I am not of the Aesir, by birth. Odin and his court attempted to raise me as one, but I guess bad blood will out." He paused for drama and saw the expectant looks of Bruce and Tony. "I am a Jotun."

There, he had said it. Now to await judgement.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 10th of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Tony sipped at his beer, almost done as he listened silently to the god's story, watching him snap and withdraw, shifting through his emotions guardedly. For the most part, he remained silent so as not to interrupt, wanting to hear everything. He was afraid any questioning might actually turn the god off to continuing, only reacting suddenly when Loki spoke of his age. 'Wha...?' he blinked._

_"Are you speaking of the last glacial age?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows raising almost to his hairline. "How old are you?"_

* * *

**End notes:**

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	7. History

**Chapter Title: **History

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **Loki's past. And, er, mind-control...

**Chapter Summary: **Loki talks about being the black sheep in a family of golden steeds, and then when Bruce leaves them alone, Loki shows Tony the Tesseract.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Tony paled and cleared his throat, recognizing the complex thoughts running through the god's mind, even he couldn't possibly know what anguishes and memories Loki chose to stew it. "Aesir..." he hummed, repeating the word and turning it in his mind. "That's uhm. Asgardians, right?"

Damn. He was a bit rusty on his Norse mythology, and now here he was living with a figure from the legends. He'd totally have to get Jarvis to compile some casual reading for him when he wasn't so busy building guns to save the world. All he knew was what he'd learned way back in highschool.

"Hum... Thor did say you were adopted once," Tony said slowly. And when the Jotun revealed the ultimate secret, Tony's face didn't change. Nor did he show any look of disgust, nor fear, nor hatred. Growing up Midgardian left him with no biases, and even then, the word was lost on him. "A... Yoh–tun?"

"Indeed; Jotun," Loki answered curtly, "and the plural is Jotnar." And then turned to his meal.

Bruce gave a timid little cough. "That would be Frost Giants, right?" he checked. When Loki nodded sullenly, he wondered out loud, "But aren't those the ancestral enemies of the Aesir? How did you end up in Asgard?" He would have bitten his tongue, if he had known the reaction it would cause in Loki.

Whoa. Okay. Judging from Loki's reaction, Tony deduced this really wasn't okay with the god just by the way his usual countenance of calm, collectedness broke from Bruce's questioning.

The would-be king flinched as if slapped, withdrawing into himself, even going as far as to clench his eyes shut briefly. He bit his lip and, instead of hugging himself because it would be too obvious, grabbed his wrist as if to physically contain his emotions. Anchor himself. He didn't have any reflective surface nearby, but he knew his mask of indifference must be a wreck, that anguish would be plain on his face.

"I..." he started, then trailed off. His mouth worked silently, opening and closing as he searched for words, and then he shook his head. "It was right after the victory of Odin All-Father's army against the Jotnar." Then he realised these people knew nothing of the grudge between Aesir and Jotnar, and explained, "The Jotnar tried to come here, to Midgard, because their own world was overcrowded and Midgard was ripe for the taking, full of precious resources and water that could be turned into ice. They, we, need cold to survive. The settlers started building ice and soon this planet was overcome, and the Jotnar crossed over and started colonising."

Bruce frowned. "But they must have known Odin would come to defend humans, right?" Odin was, after all, the patron god of vikings. Surely they must have prayed for help?

"Of course not, do not be stupid," Loki snapped, scowling at Bruce and making him flinch back. "Odin is not nearly so selfless, a lesson I have learned and payed for in blood and tears." He took a deep breath to compose himself. "Odin just did not want Jotnar becoming a threat to Asgard, which they would have done if allowed to prosper. And besides, your race were barely more than monkeys at that time, and the change was gradual enough not to be noticed at first. It took nearly eighty thousand revolutions of this planet around its star until Odin realised the Jotnar were actually becoming a threat, mainly because he and his people viewed them as primitive savages that could barely build shelters, let alone organise and invade Asgard."

Later, Loki had learned that Jotnar didn't _need_ shelter, not from the cold, but it was too late, his mind was already set that Jotnar were uncivilised beasts.

Tony sipped at his beer, almost done as he listened silently to the god's story, watching him snap and withdraw, shifting through his emotions guardedly. For the most part, he remained silent so as not to interrupt, wanting to hear everything. He was afraid any questioning might actually turn the god off to continuing, only reacting suddenly when Loki spoke of his age. '_Wha...?_' he blinked.

"Are you speaking of the_ last glacial age_?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows raising almost to his hairline. "How old are you?"

"Almost two thousand years," Loki answered with a small smirk. "Years of Asgard, of course. Converted to _your_ years..." he made a quick calculation, "closer to nine thousand than ten, but thereabouts, I think."

The engineer sat up and choked on the beer, doing his best not to sputter. "H–holy shit!" He coughed, thumping a fist to his chest. Honestly, he really should have expected something like that. Maybe. "S–sorry," he dialed back, flushing at the deity. "That's just... wow."

Loki, smirking slyly, leaned over and rubbed soothing circles into his back. "There, there," he cooed, nevertheless delighted by the strength of the reaction. "I am assured by multiple ballads of your people that _age is just a number_," he commented idly, gauging the mortal's reaction from the corners of his eyes, which danced with mirth despite the subject at hand.

"Yeah, well that's _some_ number," Tony coughed, humming a little at the touch and passing it off as him trying to clear his throat.

They managed to catch Bruce as the man was swallowing, making him laugh and spit out everything onto Loki and Tony. "Sorry," the man apologized quickly, reddening, and reached for paper napkins, handing them over to them.

It meant that Loki had to let go of Tony, but he would gladly do it to wipe the droplets of beer on his face and neck. "You are forgiven," he answered snottily, drying the droplets that had landed on his cashmere turtleneck.

Tony snorted, unable to help himself, taking the offered napkin and to copy Loki and dry the beer —

Oh. Or, yeah, Loki could do it. Apparently, Loki had decided to surprise Tony and take the chance to dab at Tony's face with the napkin.

Tony was tight-lipped, flushing. The strange, mothering nature that Loki was showing him did not go unnoticed, and Tony had to vaguely wonder if the god was simply pitying him.

Loki, on the contrary, was enjoying himself immensely and liking the resulting blush even more. "Where was I in my tale?" he wondered, wiping his forehead when he felt a drop of beer trailing down the side of his head.

"Oh, um, Odin deciding the Jotuns — Jotnar, sorry, were a threat," Bruce answered solicitously, his tongue twisting in his overall fluster of spitting his drink all over his sort-of-boss and his best friend.

Loki brightened. "Oh, yes. So, as you said, Odin and the other Asgardians decided they would not suffer the Jotnar to become a threat to their supremacy, and so decided to show what happened to those who dared defy them. What followed was a long, drawn out war, where both parties suffered great losses. It lasted more almost two thousand years — erm, around eight or nine thousand of yours — until the Jotnar decided to capitulate and retreat, but Odin knew they would recover and attempt the same as soon as they were able, so he chose to cripple them."

As Loki continued his tale, Tony was amazed by how long the damn wars lasted,easily more than enough mortal lifetimes. The fact that they had been warring well before the evolutionary baby steps of mankind was enough to make one's head spin.

"It took another three thousand of your years until the Jotnar gave their unconditional surrender, their numbers down to a thousandth of what they had been." Loki looked lost, his gaze far beyond the present. "Odin demanded their most powerful relic, the Casket of Ancient Winters, which allowed them inter-realm travel, as his prize."

"So... by taking this... Casket thing," Tony murmured, still dabbing at his neck, "The uhm. The Jotnar were basically locked away on their own realm? Planet?" Loki nodded absently, and Tony's eyes darkened a little, to think that Odin would leave a realm to rot from the inside, festering. Sure, okay, he had inadvertently saved humanity, but still...

"Where do you come in?" Bruce asked, feeling a bit pale and clutching his bottle with white knuckles. He had known Odin was a god of war, but now he knew _why_.

Loki startled, suddenly back to the present, and shrugged. "Odin told me, when I confronted him, that he found me abandoned in a temple." He grimaced slightly, belying what he thought of that tale. "I do not believe the nearly extinct Jotnar would leave a child to die, no matter how squalid, deformed or runty it was. What gave away the lie was the fact that, though pitifully small, my dam and sire remained Laufey and Farbauti, kings of the Jotnar." His beer was empty, and he glared at it mournfully, missing having the prop to hide his face and stall.

Bruce sat up in his seat, staring intently at Loki. "So... you are the prince of the Frost Giants?"

The inventor's eyes lit up as well, his mouth, forgotten over the lip of his own bottle, gaping a little. "Then you're a prince of two realms, technically." Could Tony be even more impressed?

Loki nodded, smiling bitterly. "Odin was clever. He raised me to love him, and Asgard, and also Thor, the future king, while I am still the rightful heir to the throne of Jotunheim. He planned, and I know this for a certainty, to install me upon that throne should the Jotnar ever recover and rebel against him, but he left them so crippled that even in ten thousand years they have not yet recovered. So he was left with a useless second prince to compete with Thor for the throne, and no use for him. Me," he corrected.

Tony grit his teeth at the machinations of Odin laid bare, "That ass..." he sighed. He had to admit, it seemed like an underhanded, if not sneaky idea, but obviously it hadn't worked. And the way Loki was brought was... Well. It was all a lie. "Seriously, how is _he _not God of Lies?" Tony grunted, pulling a hand over his own face, and then laying it on Loki's shoulder in some semblance of comfort.

"Shall I tell you how I ended up here, of all places, of shall I leave that tale for another time?" Loki offered, Dearly hoping they would choose the second option. He already felt laid bare as it was; he didn't fancy telling them about his break from sanity and his subsequent attempt to end his miserable existence.

"Another time. We can talk about it another time," Tony reassured, looking at the god's face and seeing just how bothered by all of this he seemed, wondering if Loki would accept this little way out. "Just enjoy your meal. This was supposed to be relaxing for you so," Tony shrugged, as if not hearing the story didn't bother him. He wanted to know, but later. "After all, I'm pretty sure you're pooped from you know, saving the world and all that."

Relieved, Loki placed his hand on Tony's, taking heart in its warmth and in the sentiment behind the gesture. "Surprisingly," he said cheerfully, looking at him, "I am not. Not enough to want to retire for the night just yet." He smiled at Tony, then remembered the hand he had in his grasp and allowed it to go with a parting pat. "It helps that I did not need to cook tonight," he added with a friendly wink.

Really, Stark was simply perfect. He knew when to push and when to stop, he _cared_ for Loki in a way few people had before, he hung onto every word he said and diffused Loki's permanent dark cloud with a few well-chosen comments that would have him rolling with laughter if he was slightly more inebriated. Releasing him was the best call he had ever taken.

Bruce, meanwhile, observed the chemistry happening right before his eyes and smiled. To think that two men as jaded as Loki and Tony could still be so refreshingly innocent in their infatuation with each other... To think that _Loki_ was giving Tony googly eyes... it gave him hope, more than Loki's conviction in his plans, more than Loki letting them go and deciding they could be allies.

Thor had been right, it seemed. Loki _was_ very likeable and charismatic, when people gave him the chance.

"Well, if you two lovebirds are done eating," he said in his most casual tone, "help me clean up. I'm knackered." He knew he should be doing physical therapy, after three months confined and drugged into immobility, but he was needed elsewhere.

Loki snapped his attention away from Tony, the soft smile that had suffused his face falling like a ton of bricks. "No. I am not done," he all but growled, picking up his place and _decimating_ it in under a minute. Seeing Bruce had pushed his own plate towards him, he grabbed it too and, with a little, "My thanks," he swallowed everything in it like a vacuum, not minding that it had cooled.

He would not waste what Tony had so lovingly made Bruce prepare.

Tony was trying his hardest to ignore the weird, fluttery feelings as he looked into those gorgeous green eyes, when it was suddenly replaced by stunned amazement at Loki's sudden scarfing down of his food. "Holy shit, you put army men to _shame_," he laughed, finishing up the rest of his plate at the same time Loki devoured two.

The engineer, content, bade Loki to sit while he helped pick up the dishes and managed to get them to the sink without breaking anything. Sure, Loki could bippity-boppity-boo it all into the sink, but Tony wanted to make the effort. Table cleaned — and many of his origami animals he'd made sitting on nearby shelves like some sort of trophies — Tony ran off to his lab to prep what he was going to show the god.

Bruce aided in the cleanup process, wiping the table down and sneaking glances at Loki in the process, gauging to see just how well he was taking being treated as such by Tony, before bidding himself an early rest. "I'll take care of my end when Tony has the rest of his stuff done by tomorrow morning," he said.

Loki waited until Tony went away and sat up, deciding to help after all. He found Bruce in the kitchen, drying his hands after having washed the dishes.

"After this, I'm out. You hang around," Bruce winked at Loki, "I think Tony wanted to catch you before anything."

"Interesting," Loki smiled, drying and putting away what Bruce had just washed. "I wonder what he wants."

Bruce looked at him timidly. "You don't need to do that," he said, indicating the drying rack. "It will dry by itself and Tony and I can put it away tomorrow."

"I am not a pampered prince any longer, friend," Loki answered softly, his eyes far away as he started putting away the cutlery. "I will never again force people to do my bidding because I think I deserve it."

Bruce snatched the dish towel and looked at him reproachfully. "We didn't do this for you because you are the conqueror of the world, Loki." Loki looked at him curiously, as if asking for the true reason, and Bruce bit his tongue, wondering how to say what was on his mind. "We wanted to repay you."

"There is no need," Loki ground out, his elegant arms crossing over his chest. "I have merely given back the privileges I took from you in the first place." He felt terrible enough as it was, he didn't want the mortals bending over backwards to thank him for not being a despot.

But Bruce shook his head. "No, you don't get it." He sighed. "Okay, not 'repay' then. We see how much of a toll this whole organising our planet for intergalactic war thing is taking on you. You have barely slept these last few days, and you frown when you think no one is looking. We wanted to do something nice for you."

Loki had no words. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing, and realised Bruce was right. He was strung too tight from all the pressure of readying this world for the inevitable while simultaneously trying to make the mortals work together, which was as easy as herding a pack of cats. He smiled as he leaned on the counter. "Then you have my thanks. It was very nice."

Feeling his courage return, Bruce leaned over and patted Loki on the upper arm. "You're welcome. Well, that was_ my_ reason," he grinned, suddenly feeling mischievous. "I think Tony just wanted to impress you."

Loki's smile grew softer. "He is very sweet, is he not?" His heart fluttered slightly. It had been doing that, recently, which had come as a surprise to him. He had thought his heart a cold, dead rock, but one glance at Tony's blush sent it all aflutter.

Bruce laughed. "I think he would object to that description, but yes, I agree. Don't tell him I told you that, though."

"Would not dream of it," Loki answered teasingly, then pushed himself off the counter. "Will you be retiring, then? Are you sure you can trust his fragile heart to me?"

"For some reason, I believe I do. His ego is in much more danger," Bruce grinned. "Sleep tight, when you do." Then he left for his room.

Loki watched him go, feeling strangely warm, and took a beer from the fridge before going to the living room to watch TV while he waited for Tony. The beverage was surprisingly nice and aromatic, compared to some of the swill people drank in Asgard, and he very much enjoyed the low buzz it gave him.

He sat on the corner of the sofa facing the huge TV, tucking his legs under his lap, and popped open the beer with his teeth, amusing himself by trying to predict how far he could spit it. Over to the furthest corner of the room, just barely, not bad. "Jarvis, anything interesting on the television?" he asked, before taking a sip and relaxing into the cushions.

* * *

Tony bit his lip. Fuck. Bruce had buggered off while he was downstairs, booting up the prototype schematics to send upstairs — since he wouldn't bother the god to get his ass down here — and here he would be stuck giving the presentation all by himself too.

He flexed his fingers as he headed from the express elevator from the workshop to the penthouse, padding down the hallway with naked feet as he quickly heard the familiar rambling from the TV. Was Loki seriously watching the Disney channel?

Fuck it. He wasn't nervous. He was Tony _Fucking_ Stark.

With a deep breath, the proud mortal cleared his throat to signal his arrival. "Hey, good thing you're still up," he began, eyes quickly darting about. Fuck. Where to sit?

Options: Beside Loki, on the arm of the couch Loki sat upon, in the armchair seated nearby, on the floor, beside Loki (wait, did he say that already?).

"I've uhm. I've got stuff to show you, that is, if you're not too engrossed in..." he flicked his eyes to the screen, "Sleeping Beauty? Aw, that's the cool part, too, with the dragon," the engineer snickered. He huffed, refusing to be weird about this, even if it was already apparent how nervous he was — must've lost some of that charm in the slammer, Stark. With little hesitation, he threw a leg up over the back of the couch and hoisted himself over, plopping his ass right next to the seated god, even if he left a good space between them. "So uh. Can I grab your attention for a sec?"

Interested as he was in the movie, Loki turned to face Tony without taking his eyes off it at first. "Of course," he said softly. "Pause, Jarvis," he added, and waited until the movement stopped before finally flicking his eyes over to his seated friend. Minion. He observed Tony was slightly out of breath and smiled, charmed. "Beer?" he asked, motioning to the still full bottles he had taken with him, which sat on the glass of the coffee table in puddles of their own condensation.

He grabbed one at Tony's nod and cooled it in his grasp, using his magic and not his Jotun powers, since he was still dreadfully uncomfortable about having anything to do with those animals. Then he opened it much the same way he had opened his: biting the cap, twisting the bottle, and spitting out the cap. It landed on a pair of similar caps, where Loki had been leaving them. Loki handed Tony the bottle, smirking.

"Thanks," Tony snorted, eyes following the trajectory of the bottle caps. "Having fun there?" He shifted to face the other a little more, getting comfy as he crossed his legs.

"Lots. What can I help you with?"

"It's not what you can help me with, unless you understand thermodynamics as they apply to large-scale defensive weaponry. Nah, just sit back and listen. Maybe gasp and tell me how awesome I am from time to time, you can do that," Tony smirked before snapping his fingers. "Alright. Relay the files up here, Jarv, starting with proposed model three point seven five seven."

He'd already saved packages of schematics to unfold before the god, this one containing the most complete diagrams for now. "So if you have time, I'd like to show you what I've been working on. A little show and tell, mind," he looked to Loki, as if afraid the god would simply dismiss all this for sleep. Or worse, Sleeping Beauty.

He had to snicker quietly though, remembering the god and his little line of drool while he slept peacefully on the couch. This couch, actually. "So, what do you say? Can I show you a thing or two?" He seemed to have lost a bit of his nervousness to the excitement he felt; Tony was always a show off, and when it came to his work, almost all else took less precedence. Almost.

Slightly caught off guard by Tony's excitement, Loki blinked at him. He had some progress on the weapons already? "Of course you can," he said, and the living room instantly filled with light. Holographic displays? Loki had known they existed, mainly because of movies he had watched, but to see them in real life was...

Awe-inspiring. As was the huge proud smile that spread Tony's lips when the light show started.

Loki looked again, this time looking at the content itself. Three-dimensional models, screen with stats, others with very detailed drawings of the designs. They were so detailed and precise — like a tapestry woven by expert weavers — that it took a moment for Loki to stop appreciating the cool sort of beauty and really look at them. It was difficult to understand at first, too many lines, but looking the floating model in front of him he soon gathered that most of the lines, the really thin ones with the tiny arrowheads, were only there to show dimensions.

He tried to make sense of it, but there were too many parts. He didn't see any big changes compared to the plans of the guns he had given Tony to improve, but, then again, he had no idea at all about this kind of weaponry other that it should be pointed at what he wanted dead, like crossbows, and Tony had probably worked wonders.

Whew. Oh, good, so Loki was actually impressed. Tony grinned proudly and couldn't help but puff his chest out like a proud bird. And God, Loki looked so astounded and engrossed in Tony's work, in his soul and blood and sweat he'd poured into these things, that it was hard not to inwardly gloat a little. He found he enjoyed the look plastered on Loki's face.

"I defer to your superior knowledge of technology," Loki said at last, still observing the model. "Will you explain the changes you made?" When he looked at Tony, he saw Tony look away, as if he had been watching Loki all along, and smiled internally. He also couldn't help but notice how otherworldly Tony looked with the lights reflecting off his face and gleaming in eyes.

"Haha, okay... so get this, I'll lay it all out for you." With a lot of gestures on Tony's part, the man began to go through the entire plan. With a flick of his wrist, he laid out three stages projecting the estimated arrival of the invading forces.

"Alright, so here," Tony tapped at a screen showing the entire earth surrounded by tiny red lights all aligned in an array of different patterns as they orbited the planet. "Is Stage One of the defense protocol. I'm gonna set up my satellites to 'active' modes. That's right, I did have this all planned out before. It's probably not going to put too much of a dent in the battalion they're sending over, but it'll hurt. So these guys," he plucked a finger over one of the red dots and expanded the image to a full-sized layout of the weaponized satellites with of course, Stark's name on it. "These bad boys are going to be the avant-garde of our repertoire. Gonna fire on the first wave. If I knew what their weak points were, I can reprogram them to target specific things. Okay. So, when these are all gone and done with, and mind, we don't have to do anything for them, at least not on your part, I already had them up there..." Tony winked.

"We move on to Stage Two. I call this the Aegis defense system. And totally up for a name change if you'd like, Mr. Dictator," he laughed, scrubbing the old schematics away for another diagram of the earth littered with blue dots. Same thing, blowing up the images up to pillars that looked fairly simple. "These will create a protective barrier that can take a beating. Like I was explaining to Bruce, it'll take a lot more than a thousand Hulks to break these bad boys if my calculations are correct. I'm going to do a bit of testing to be sure. If I could have access to the Tesseract's energy, I would totally appreciate that. Since it's a similar energy source to whatever the Chitauri were using, I'm likely to try to weaponize the energy and pit it against my shields. But! Returning to the Aegis," he snapped his fingers, the pillars activating on the screen and creating a protective blanket... around the _entire Earth._ "These will exhaust a lot of the resources that our enemies will be coming in with. If we have enough time to mouth some sort of attack against them, now would be a good time while they're trying to break through."

Tony swiped the image away in place of the last, the original guns, which with but a tap, transformed. New add-ons flew onto the machinery's schematics, a few things changing here and there. And it became smaller. "Alright, so here's Stage 3... I... Haven't named them yet," Tony said with a flush, clearing his throat before continuing. "These are our last ditch defenses, designed for mobility, portability, and the biggest punch. I'll be devoting my time to these the most. And uhm..." The engineer shuffled back in his seat a little, unknowing of the way his fingers nervously plucked at the hem of his shirt. Again, he always had busy hands. "I was hoping you'd name them. Since they were uh. Your original design, sort of."

Tony Stark, sharing his glory? No way! What the heck was wrong with him?

It was much more that Loki had expected. An actual defense system what didn't consist of picking off ships one by one? Simply marvelous! And using the energy signatures to home in on the chitauri ships was a stroke of brilliance.

Loki could have kissed Tony, right there and then.

Instead, he shared with him his most brilliant smile, knowing and uncaring of the fact that his eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and he grabbed Tony by the shoulders, turning him to look at Loki. He merely smiled for a moment, unable to control himself long enough to speak, and then he croaked out, "You deserve a special place in Valhalla," through the knot in his throat.

He was still finding it hard to believe that there was defense system _already in place_.

Tony almost yelped and jumped back from the sudden hands on his shoulders, but he managed to hold himself together and put on a tight smile that slowly became a true one. Loki was just thanking him. And... by the look in his eyes — were those _tears? —_ Tony had to gauge he'd done really well. "Valhalla...?" he blinked, feeling at a loss, only to vaguely sort of remember what it meant. Like, Viking Heaven, right? Tony opened his mouth to say that no Heaven, even if it really existed, would ever take him, but he chose better and shut it again. He'd just accept the compliment and the relieved look Loki was sporting.

Letting go of Tony's shoulders with a parting squeeze full of sentiment, his hands went to his lap, where he had to grasp at his thighs in the sudden wave of overwhelming emotion that overcame him. He looked down, composing himself, and thought of a name for the weapons that Tony was so graciously allowing him to name. "I shall name it Framrherrlae."

That's when Loki chose the name, Tony blinking with curiosity. "Fr–fram... Farller... Framrherrlae..." he parroted poorly, feeling his tongue go all over the place. "What's it even mean?" he mumbled. Screw it, he'd call them _Frannies_. Tony waggled a hand, "Alright, title Stage Three: Framrherrlae Planetary Defensive Artillery Unit."

_"_Done and done, Sir," the AI quipped easily.

Weapon named, Loki accessed the in-between space where he stored all the sensitive stuff. In his hands appeared a crystal shaped like a canister, glowing a purple so light it was nearly white, and he presented it to Tony. The room began to glow even more. With his arc reactor quietly glowing beneath his shirt and the multiple holographic projects floating around the room, the penthouse became nearly ethereal, fantasy-like when Loki pulled the source of energy from another dimension.

"This is what the Chitauri use to power their ships," Loki explained, "not the Tesseract. They wanted it, to be sure, because it contains great power, but they use this." He also pulled the Tesseract from its confines, its light making the room completely otherworldly, and offered it to Tony as one would hand over a newborn babe. "And I recall I promised you this, did I not?"

Tony couldn't help but marvel, leaning in to look first at the crystal and then the— "Oh! Tesseract, okay," he stammered quickly, reaching out with a nervous movement. When it came into his hands, it was cool but not freezing. "O–oh. I always thought this thing burnt... or froze," he hummed, looking the tiny cube over. It looked so innocent and yet... not. He could literally feel the power thrumming through him and suddenly. "Wh–whoa. _Wow_." He made a face, the arc reactor humming loudly and glowing. "Okay, that tastes like tequila and iron. Holy shit."

His eyes glowed blue.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 13th of June.**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_The mortal struggled, feeling threatened. He never let anyone touch the arc reactor, except Pepper, and now here the God of Chaos was, forcing his palm over the reactor and drawing... drawing something out of him. Was it his soul? Oh, God. Oh, God, Loki was going to kill him now, wasn't he? Tony Stark was no longer needed. Loki had what he wanted. And now he was going to die for giving it all to—_

* * *

**End notes:**

Like a clever man once said, "Never trust anything that can think for itself if you _can't see where it keeps_ its _brain__". _Oh, yeah, Loki's age is my attempts of reconciling Norse myth with Marvel canon - I mean, surely it got pretty fucking cold when the Jotnar invaded Midgard, yeah? Cold enough to be registered.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	8. Roots

**Chapter Title: **Roots

**Chapter Rating**: T.

**Chapter Length: **5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **nothing not covered by the rating.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony's soul is addicted to the Tesseract energy, and Loki helps him clean it out. Then Tony explains the new defense system and takes Loki down to his lab. (No, that isn't an euphemism.)

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Fast as a snake, Loki snatched the Tesseract back, looking wary at it. He hadn't liked the sudden blue glow that had appeared in Tony's eyes when he held the Cosmic Cube. "Maybe I should hold on to this and take it straight to your lab," he said, frowning, and put it away in a flash of light.

"Mnnn..." Tony murmured, blinking past the weird haze in his head. It was almost addicting, like a really good whiskey. He found his body craving for more, but... but no. He already had a really cool power source, right? It was by some weird irony that Tony's pride was the only thing keeping him from reaching out and begging the god for the Tesseract again. The feeling slowly ebbed away, becoming a more comfortable afterthought in the back of his mind, more natural. The idea of handing over his work — _all_ of his life's work — including these plans to those calling him would be easy. Hell... maybe Loki would even be more happy with him if he just gave them over to— Yeah, why not?

Loki thought Tony looked a bit dazed, and he worried about the effects the Tesseract may have had on him when he thoughtlessly handed it over with no protection. He needed to check for leftover traces of it in Tony's body and eliminate them. To that effect, he held Tony steady by the shoulder and murmured a spell, his other hand hovering over his body like a scanner. When he reached the center of the mortal's chest, he found the hooks alright.

"Lie down," he ordered, kneeling on the carpet and pushing Tony back onto the seats of the couch only gently enough for him not to jostle his head and with a wave of his hand vanished Tony's shirt. The — thing — machinery? — in his chest gave him pause, and the words, "What on Earth _is _that?" were out of his mouth before he could think about it.

"Nnn! Whoa, holy fuck!? What the hell?!" Out of nowhere, Tony was being pushed against the back and his shirt as gone and what was happening? The first thing he felt again was fear. Real, naked _fear._

Loki shook his head, said "Later," and laid his hand over the light, the other over Tony's forehead. He closed his eyes and concentrated, humming softly under his breath, and soon found that the Tesseract had taken root already. How was it possible? Tony had only touched it briefly — unless. Unless the pathways for it's power was already there. Hm, indeed, the eerie blue light humming along with Loki's magic was not, as he had feared, a piece of Cosmic Cube, just remarkably similar in nature. Similar enough to create the same tracks in Tony's mind and body that the Tesseract needed to possess him.

Tony's hands shot up and grasped Loki's wrists, but of course, the god had godly strength and he was soon feeling bare under the other's gaze, feeling Loki actually rooting around in what felt like his _soul._

Loki had no time to dawdle. Concentrating, ignoring Tony's grip, he pulled on the light of the Tesseract, pulling it out of Tony. It fought, of course, and sweat beaded on Loki's forehead, but, for all its sentience, it was no match for the will of a trained wizard, all of whom were always notoriously stubborn. It took some work, but eventually wisps of a shining, silvery blue gas poured out from Tony's mouth and nose and ears and eyes, dissolving into the ether.

The mortal struggled, feeling threatened. He never let _anyone_ touch the arc reactor, except Pepper, and now here the God of Chaos was, forcing his palm over the reactor and drawing... drawing something out of him. Was it his soul? Oh, God. _Oh, God_, Loki was going to _kill _him now, wasn't he? _Tony Stark was no longer needed. Loki had what he wanted. And now he was going to die for giving it all to—_

The next time Tony blinked, his eyes were they usual warm, if a bit frightened, brown.

Loki finished his spell and retreated, but not without brushing sweaty strands of hair from Tony's damp forehead. They were both panting. "Are you well?" he asked, sitting on his heels and slumping against the couch. "I should have thought — should have realised —" He didn't quite know how to apologise.

Tony gasped for air. Everything felt hot, damp, and he was looking up at those emerald eyes with questions shining in them. "Wha... what... _What the hell did you just do to me?_!"

Loki laughed, relieved. "Oh, I see you are quite hale," he grinned. If Tony was well enough to complain, then... "Apologies for the, er, abruptness." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, and then noticed he was still kneeling. "I shall explain everything in due time, but first," he took his bottle of beer and sipped it. The cold was refreshing, and the taste chased away the lingering bitterness of difficult magic. His breathing under control now, Loki moved and sat on the coffee table so he could look better at Tony.

Tony's face flushed brilliantly, this time from the conflicting embarrassment and insult and the closeness. Oh, yeah, and his shirtlessness. He straightened up on the couch, laying a hand over the arc reactor protectively, fingers working over it as if trying to find anything wrong with it. He glared at Loki accusingly.

"I thought —" Loki started, then cut himself off with a shake of his head. "I _assumed _you would have in place some measure of natural defense against the Tesseract, relying on the fact that _that,_" he gestured to the bright device in Tony's chest, "made you immune to my mind control spell. I was wrong." So terribly and utterly wrong. He bit his lip and hung his head. "You are very vulnerable to the Tesseract. Like a recovering addict when given his drug of choice, the pathways are already there, the Tesseract did not need to carve into you to take root."

"What? What are you talking about?" Tony growled. What did Loki mean, that the Tesseract didn't 'need to carve into him to take root'?!

Loki shook his head, feeling terribly guilty, and rested his hand on Tony's to emphasize how earnest he was.

The billionaire huffed, almost scooting away from Loki's touch, only to feel the sincerity of it. He shivered, but not from the cold.

"I am terribly sorry. I misjudged and it almost cost you your sanity." He swallowed. "And then I — _invaded_ your space without asking. It was to take it out, get its influence out of you, but..." he trailed off, sighing, and Tony's shirt materialised in Loki's hands. "I am sorry," he repeated, offering it back to Tony.

The man snatched the shirt quickly from Loki's grasp and hastily pulled it on, still feeling oddly naked under the god's gaze, drawing his feet up under him again. "It's... whatever, it was... wait." Loki was apologizing? "That's the first time I've... ever heard you say it." _I'm sorry_. The god had sounded so sincere that it hurt, Tony's brown eyes resting again on the other across from him.

Loki licked his lips. "I... try not to say it often," he admitted. '_Or at all.' _Tony had sounded like maybe he would accept the apology, and it lifted from him a weight he hadn't known he had been carrying. Loki was sorry for a lot of things, things he had no right to be sorry for, and this apology had been the first one in many years.

Still, he frowned at Tony chest. "What I meant was... All mortals have a measure of resistance against magic. Unless one has a spell and a power source, like I did, taking over your minds is not easy or instantaneous. It takes patience to wear down the defenses a little every day, like the sea pushing at a rock." He paused and looked into Tony's eyes, reassuring himself that he wasn't inviting back the mind control by talking about it.

Slowly, little by little, Tony found himself unwinding as the Liesmith spoke. His words were soothing, the way he spoke like a gentle breeze on a hot day. Tony relaxed back into the couch cushion and sighed, rapping his fingers on the glass of the arc reactor instead of covering it up like before.

Loki had had every chance to kill him and yet he didn't. Tony supposed he could at least owe Loki that.

"Eventually, a hole is worn into that defense; and the Tesseract does just that. It worms under your skin, poisoning you with thoughts that feel yours but are not, until you are little more than a drone controlled remotely by it." The scientist, Selvig. He had studied the Tesseract for nearly a year, until Loki drilled into him with the Scepter and the consciousness of the Tesseract flooded in, invading his every thought like a drug.

"And, for a reason I know not," Loki continued, "you lacked that defense against the Tesseract specifically. I believe it is due to that," he lifted a hand to point at the chest-piece, but did not touch it when he saw Tony flinch away automatically, like a kicked animal.

"Uhm... Apology accepted, I guess," Tony said, itching at his neck and feeling a little too formal about all this. The mind-control thing? It burned him to hear that he had no resistance to it. Thinking back, every thought had seemed so natural. He had wanted to send all of his plans out to whomever, just as badly as he had wanted to show Loki just before that. The thought was unsettling. But it made sense.

"The colour and sound of it," Loki continued, "or rather, the crystal inside which emits the light, are remarkably similar to those of the Cosmic Cube. In fact, if I did not know better, I would say it is a shard of it, only not sentient." It was a question, disguised as a statement. Or rather, an invitation for Tony to tell him about the machinery in his chest.

"It's... not a shard," Tony said slowly as his mind snapped the pieces together. It took him a good long while to actually want to talk about it though. This was stuff he wasn't so keen on sharing with the other, but he supposed he owed that to Loki too. "My uhm... my father, he fished the damn thing out of the ocean once," Tony began, looking away as his fingers drummed. "Back when they found Rogers on ice. It makes sense. He left plans for me to build a new element. One we've never seen before. I created it, it helped me..." he looked cautiously at Loki, "It helped me _live_. Still does. It only makes sense though. I'm sure my dad studied the hell outta that thing and saw value in it." Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, feeling lighter by talking about this, even if he hated dredging up the past.

The mind _boggled_. "You are saying," Loki started slowly, disregarding for the moment that the device in Tony's chest was basically a battery he ran on, "that you _made_ a piece of Tesseract, from scratch."

"Yeah, sure," Tony nodded, as if it were no big deal. "I think that was Howie's intention all along, in giving me the info. I just didn't know they were recreations of the Tesseract. I actually run this entire building from one of these." His fingers drummed against the glass dome of the reactor again. Tony liked the sound.

Loki gaped slightly. The implications of that kind of technology, being at their hands... "That, if you wanted, you could make a myriad of those shards and install one in every Framrherrlae?" It was a good thing he was sitting down, for his body started trembling badly.

He knew Tony's story, of course, second hand from Barton. Stark had been a weapon smith, the very best, and his creations had been incredibly ahead of his time. But then he had been kidnapped and tortured and forced to make them for enemies, and worse, confronted with all the deaths he had caused, and he had stopped. Instead he had become Iron Man and dedicated his life to making people's lives better.

But if he hadn't... If he hadn't stopped making weapons... Loki probably wouldn't have survived his invasion of this planet. This man could make _Tesseract shards_ on a whim. Mortal weapons still relied on projectiles, but only because Tony had wanted to stop making them. If he hadn't, they would already have light and beam weapons. Loki would have been _destroyed._

He was so lucky Tony was a good man underneath. _So lucky_. He had underestimated him so much.

When he raised his eyes to Tony next, they were wide with awe he was unable to contain; true awe, that overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, produced by that which is grand, sublime, or extremely powerful than he had only ever felt when watching an angry Odin smite someone.

Tony looked over at Loki's face, blinking at the sudden recognition of reverence in Loki's eyes. "What? Did I do something?" he looked around and behind him, as if Loki were looking at something he couldn't see. And then he chuckled. "Well... Don't look _so_ shocked, Loki. My ego's gonna swell beyond repair," he chuckled, finally reaching out to gently pat the god's cheek as if to snap him out of it.

Even if his chest swelled with the fluttery realization that he really did enjoy putting these kinds of looks on his face. And his fingers against the other's cool, pale skin for a moment longer than he had intended. He was staring too hard right back at Loki. Tony cleared his throat, trying to defuse the tense air between the two. "S–so uh... Yep. That's my progress report for the day. Sh–should have some more stuff for you t–tomorrow... Not really planning on sleeping so." He started taking his hand back.

Loki caught the it midair by the wrist and stared at it, his heart beating overtime. His lips parted slightly in a small gape as he considered that this hand the same hand that made things capable of so much destruction, was also capable of such a kind, reassuring touch. What a paradox. What a marvel.

Tony's breath quickened when Loki caught his wrist and held it too tight. He winced a little, but it was nothing compared to whatever pains he'd acquired as his career being Iron Man.

Loki realised he was holding Tony's arm too tightly and loosened his clutch, looking apologetically at him. There were bruises forming already. Tony was looking at them and Loki alternately, as if wondering if they were intentional.

A sudden idea lit up in Loki's brain and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

Locking gazes with Tony and trying but failing to keep a smile at bay, Loki brought up Tony's wrist and bowed his head to kiss it gently. He murmured a small healing spell against it, his lips grazing the soft skin, and soon enough his lips started tingling with the transfer of magic. He knew Tony would be feeling it too, but everyone felt it differently; he may feel just a raise in temperature, or tingling, or prickles, or a soothing chill.

"Nnnn..." Tony couldn't help but hum a little, licking his lips distractedly at the touch. His heart fluttered, and if one looked hard enough, they might see a fluctuation in the reactor's glow. It tingled gently where the god treated him, his skin becoming gooseflesh on his arm as the magic coursed through him. The Liesmith's ultimate weapon, placed against his pulse, the mouth that could spin lies and tragedies and truths and stories. Oh, what it would feel like to have them pressed against his own...

_Wait. What?_

"You should sleep, Tony," Loki murmured, interrupting Tony's thoughts, and reluctantly let his hand go. "I appreciate your effort," '_Quite a lot, actually,_' "but I would rather have you sleeping and eating well." He had already caused this man enough grief, although he had to marvel at the fact that Tony was so good inside that he didn't smite Loki the first chance he had. "However, as I know you are stubborn as a mule, I will tell you this: if you make a container for the Tesseract so that you do not touch it, I shall put it in it tomorrow morning."

Tony took his hand back, rubbing at his wrist gently. He tried to recover, chuckling, "Haha. I think you're getting to know me, Mr. President. I _am_ a bit of a stubborn mule. Thanks for that. I uhm. I'll probably work on that until I pass out."

Loki nodded sagely. "Of course you will. I know your type well," he said with the faintest hint of a smirk. _He_ was the type to work on something, disregarding food and rest, until he dropped. It was why he was considered a prodigy in Asgard, when he wasn't actually that prodigious; he merely worked hard, very hard.

He glanced at Tony and dropped his eyes instinctively when Tony caught him looking. It was a bit of an awkward moment, neither of them knowing what how to say goodbye and both of them disinclined to part.

Loki swallowed and stood, offering Tony a hand up. The man didn't need it, but Loki was hoping he would take it anyway. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Maybe I could watch you work, keep you company." The tips of his ears burned.

That surprised the engineer. "Oh, you want to... watch me work?" he asked, though it was a rhetorical question. He took the offered hand and hoist himself up, trying to ignore the momentary closeness. He moved away and brushed himself off, fixing his shirt in place.

Well. Things couldn't get any more awkward, why not? "Sure. I wouldn't mind the company," Tony said at last, holding up a finger. "But first. I need my medicine to take with me." The billionaire strode over to the bar of the penthouse and after running a finger over each of the bottles, all of different shapes and sizes and colors. He was glad at least that Loki hadn't seemed to touch most of these — this shit was expensive — and one of his greatest collections.

Loki watched the man run his hands over the liquor bottles reverently and he was disquieted. He very much disliked how Tony had called it _his medicine_, as though he were ill and needed the alcohol to get getter again.

Glut, Loki's first wife, had been dependant on alcohol too. They had both been drunk and relatively young when they met in Muspelheim, in Beltane. He had made a child in her, and decided to stay, since he wasn't needed at Asgard at the time. But she had kept drinking, at first a little, and Loki liked when she did so because she became less grouchy and more amorous. But in a rage she had smashed the egg where, it turned out, twin girls were growing. Thankfully they had been far along enough that the lived through, and when they lived through their second year, no thanks to their mother who was becoming increasingly irritable and less responsible, even forgetting to feed them, Loki had named them Eisa and Einmyria.

Rearing them was a nightmare, for he had very little help from Glut. She prefered the bottle to staying at home, and Loki found her passed out several times, in the beds of other men. Shamed, he still welcomed her back every time, forgiving her and believing her when she claimed to be sorry and that it wouldn't happen again. And when she wasn't away or drinking herself into a stupor, she was violent. She burned down their little cottage several times, losing control of her innate flames, and burned Loki in her anger several times, until he learned enough fire magic out of self defence that she wouldn't hurt him anymore.

Then the girls were old enough to leave home, marry and live their own lives, Loki had left Glut behind to self-destruct on her own. Last he had heard of her, she had passed out and choked to death in her own vomit, burning down the house and the entire village.

He hadn't been able to touch liquor for many centuries, drinking only when he was pressured by Thor's heavy eyes during a feast. He thought, with reason, that alcohol clouded the mind and turned people into beasts, and if there was one thing he hated, it was losing control of himself. Later, he had come to understand that people were already beasts, and all drink did was show their true character, and he had begun enjoying wine and ale again, but always in careful moderation.

So no, he wasn't comfortable with Tony calling it "his medicine". But he said nothing, letting none of the apprehension he was feeling show on his face. He'd just have to trust Tony to know his limits and not to get shitfaced when the fate of the world depended on his work.

Tony hummed and plucked a bottle of particularly aged scotch and one... no, make it two tumblers from a cabinet, finally turning to Loki with a grin. The billionaire couldn't possibly know what was running through the gods' complex mind, choosing instead on looking forward to working with Loki overseeing his process. Blame it months of not being able to really see or talk to anyone, but Tony wanted someone to dazzle. His target audience right now just so happened to be Loki.

"Alright, we're good. C'mon. Maybe I'll show you how the magic happens," he laughed, already moving to the express elevator that he and Bruce had been using lately. Most of the other floors were pretty much useless to him for now, mostly used for Stark Industries purposes as well as house the rest of the Avengers and their training areas but... well... since they weren't here anymore besides Bruce, it was almost like a ghost town in here.

As they rode the elevator down, Tony couldn't help but shuffle, refusing to feel awkward on the way to the labs. "You know, you really don't have to. If you're tired, you can sleep. My bed too, if you want, since I'm likely to not use it today. And I know how much you like that mattress."

"If you want me in your bed," Loki replied slyly, resting a hand on the small of Tony's back and bringing him a bit closer, "you needed only ask."

Tony had been busy swirling the bottle of scotch when the god placed his hand on him, just the subtle touch jumping up his spine so quickly that he had to look up at Loki. _Oh._ Tony's wide brown eyes couldn't seem to leave Loki's face, dilating unabashed with questions hidden behind them. A good part of the mortal truly did believe Loki was just fucking around with him. They didn't call him the Trickster for nothing and. Well. Trust issues and all that.

Tony swallowed as he tried to get a grip on himself again. A smirk came to his face, his internal debating having taken only a couple of seconds before he was back.

"Are you hitting on me Mr. President?" he quirked a brow with amusement, propping himself against the wall with an elbow. "I can't say you're gonna like me when I say I didn't vote for you before," he teased playfully. Oh, God, but he had to keep himself together. This was just _pathetic._

Loki smiled, his eyes catching every sign of interest on Tony's face, the flushed cheeks, the dilated pupils, the slightly faster breathing... He turned, facing Tony fully, and dipped his head slightly, watching Tony's eyes as they faces came just that bit closer. "Then, I will have to _convince you_ to vote for me next," he said suggestively, his voice deep and slightly hoarse with seduction.

For a moment he thought Tony would kiss him, but then there was a _ding_ and the doors of the elevator opened. It started Loki enough that he dropped his hand and looked behind himself at the open space, and then the moment was gone.

As if snapped from a chance _(fuck, their faces had been so close!)_, Tony blinked to reality as the doors swung open. With a small grunt, he followed Loki out and into the cool space that smelled of grease and ozone and machinery.

Strangely disappointed, Loki stepped back and out of the elevator and waited for Tony to come through, while taking deep breaths to steady his excited pulse. He looked around, having never set foot inside Tony's lab before.

The area was wide, much larger than his workshop in Malibu, consisting of three rooms. The main one they stepped out into being the area where he developed everything. Computers and long tables littered with a myriad of machines and tools and scraps. Dum-E sat quietly in the corner, powered off until Tony needed him. Currently, his largest piece of work seemed to be a gun barrel that was much larger and thicker than a damn telephone pole, intricate parts interlaced over others. Jarvis was busy running diagnostics on it.

Loki turned to Tony. "So this is where you do your science?" he asked, taking the bottle and the glasses from Tony and pouring a small measure into them. "Want you ice in this?"

"What? Oh, ice! Yeah, sure. Er, please."

Loki dipped one finger into Tony's tumbler and started forming ice on the very tip. Soon, he had a ball of ice the size of an eye and he judged it big enough. He couldn't deny it was pretty, the amber liquid with its golden undertones, lapping at the cold ice that had already formed a layer of frost where it had frozen the water in the air.

Tony watched with great fascination as Loki simply materialized the ice, rolling it around in his drink after the deed had been done.

Warm and lively against cold and pretty. Neither was too good on their own, but together... Loki smiled. '_Just like Tony and I_,' he thought, and handed the glass to Tony. "Here you go." He put some ice in his own, since Tony was clearly the expert in this and if he thought it should have ice, then it probably should, and swirled the ball around the walls of the tumbler.

"Thanks," Tony said quickly, enjoying the sound it made as it pinged lightly against the glass. The first sip was like a live fire heating a path down his throat and settling pleasantly in his stomach, Tony closing his eyes for a moment to savor it. Oh, he missed this too. You never really knew how good you had it until you were locked away for months.

Wait. That'd happened twice. Maybe fate was scolding him constantly for his ego or something. If he believed in that crap.

Loki copied Tony and sipped rather than swallowed the drink, finding it had a lot of character, and it burned rather pleasantly as it went down his tongue. Indeed, it reminded him of Tony more and more. "Tell me about this place," he suggested.

Tony's eyes immediately shone with pride. "Right, so this is the workshop," he began, sweeping his arms around, "And over there's where the magic gets tested. You probably don't wanna be in there when I'm firing off live ammunition," Tony chuckled, gesturing to the second area off to the right. It was a large testing area, a wide room that almost resembled that of a gym. Here and there were burn marks or holes blasted into the walls, broken glass.

Loki looked around, wincing slightly at the half-destroyed wall, noticing the simultaneous order and chaos in the room. Half-baked constructs everywhere, left abandoned to gather rust; metal surfaces gleaming in the artificial light; tools lying about, sometimes on the floor; cables strewn everywhere. It was a mess. And Loki loved it.

Lastly, he pointed to the room off to the left."And there's the showcase room," he shrugged. No big deal. It was only a wide room with a circular, raised platform in the center. Around said platform were all of the man's complete armor sets, polished and gleaming like trophies. There were empty spaces towards the end, Tony clearly intending on adding to the collection without end. Probably until he died. "Those're my babies," he smirked proudly.

The Ghost, the different Marks, Hulk-Buster (he'd had to explain that one to Bruce), the Heartbreaker... The God Killer still lay undone on its own table in the main room (he'd needed more research on Thor and Loki and the whole Asgardian lot before he moved forward with that one), and with a sudden realization of who he was with, Tony swallowed. He'd have to explain that one too if Loki asked. So he wouldn't let Loki ask.

Quickly moving over to grab two rolling chairs and plopping himself in one backwards, his arms resting over the back cushion. He sighed, relaxing on the back of his chair and swiveling around to pull up a few interfaces to get started while Loki got acquainted with the place. "So what'd you think so far?" he grinned. This was his lair, his lab, his home. In a way, it was Tony's mind and soul laid bare before the god.

"It is impressive," Loki conceded, taking a seat in the offered chair. "I especially like those," he gestured at the wall of armors. "I recognise that one, and that other one," he pointed at them in turn. "Those were the ones you wore when you fought me, are they not? Why have you so many?" He was really curious about that. The man couldn't possibly need them all. He had gone to war with Loki with just the two; he couldn't possibly need more than seven or eight to change into when the last one was wrecked.

"Hmm?" The inventor looked over his shoulder towards the trophy room. "Oh, that's... Just me adapting to every possible situation," Tony shrugged. "They're all built for different purposes." He paused, judging whether or not he should go any further and elaborate, but he figured he was in this deep already. If Loki wanted to, he could probably end his life at any moment.

Not that Tony would ever admit to that.

"Different situations," he continued, humming into his glass. "Like that one over there? I made that as a stealth suit. Aptly, ingeniously named the ... Stealth... suit," Tony snorted. "And uh, that one's the Hydro, for deep sea diving. The outer shell was made to withstand crushing pressures several hundred feet below sea level, with sonar perception to help with the visuals in a no-light atmosphere. I've got War Machine over there, my buddy Rhodey had used it back when I... er. Back when shit came up with Vanko, don't think you know the guy. That's the closest I've ever gotten to a sidekick, but," Tony said pointedly, "Iron Man does _not_ have a sidekick, to keep the records straight." Tony sipped at his drink and frowned, "Er. Sorry. Didn't mean to ramble." He purposefully made to avoid the Hulkbuster in case Loki got it in his head to ask who _else _he'd built armors to combat.

Impressive. This was exactly the kind of mind that would arm his satellites on the off-chance of invasion. Then Loki remembered Jarvis, and the blood froze in his veins. "Do they run on their own?" he asked breathily, turning to Tony and watching him warily. He knew Tony was similar to him — and in Tony's position, if the armours were sentient, he would sic them on the god that had conquered the world and enslaved the human race.

If it were him in Tony's position, he would do anything to extract the information on the upcoming threat, endear himself to the tyrant and invite him over into a trap.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 17th of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki instantly felt Tony tense up, but he didn't if it was in surprise or because, like Loki, he had been expecting an attack of some sort. Saying nothing, Loki started massaging Tony's shoulders gently, mindful of his strength and the tension in Tony's muscles._

* * *

**End notes:**

Woooo, tech porn! Also, this two have so many trust issues...

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	9. Trust Issues

**Chapter Title: **Trust Issues

**Chapter Rating**: K+.

**Chapter Length: **4 k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **still none.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony engineers, and Loki watches, besotted.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Tony saw Loki looking a little pale. Paler. "Under me, they can," he shrugged again, finishing the contents of his glass and pouring himself another. "I've hard-coded Jarvis to activate and run them only under my command. They're only as smart as I made my AI."

"Are you going to hurt my feelings, Sir?" Jarvis suddenly quipped from around them.

Tony laughed, "Hey! It was a compliment." He grinned, turning to look at Loki when he realized just why the god looked so apprehensive.

Oh.

Loki pretended nothing was wrong. He remained seated as casually as he could get and sipping his drink. If Tony had wanted to end him, he reminded himself, he could have poisoned his dinner. Or he could have merely remained in the elevator and closed the doors before activating the armors. He wasn't going to kill Loki. He wasn't.

But reassuring himself with logic almost never worked. It was a fear in his guts, something that had nothing to do with higher brain functions. His right hand shook a little and he made it into a fist, taking a shuddering breath and another sip of the soothing drink. He wasn't just scared of being betrayed, of being lulled into a false sense of security by the warmth of camaraderie and then having it all be part of a plan to get rid of him — he _expected _it.

Midgardian mythology called him the God of Lies — but more than that, he was the god _in_ lies. He had been lied to and cheated and things he had thought certain had vanished into sand; and it had forged him into who he was now. A liar, a cheater, a manipulator. Never deserving of affection without distrust, because he himself was unable to give affection without expecting a betrayal at any moment.

But he was nothing if not a pretender.

So he looked at the suits and then at Tony and smiled, finally getting control of his body by giving it a task to perform. "We have an army, then, too. Cheers," he raised his glass for Tony to toast, and his eyes were bright with distrust.

Noticing the pensive way Loki moved, only able to catch it because it was almost the exact same way he conducted himself, Tony had to offer a smile. A warm one with no ill intent behind it. He knew because it was a mask, the same he hid behind, day after day, even more so now that he'd been released from his second time being locked away — for good, he'd thought dourly behind bars. Because that was what was expected, that you were always alright.

Everyone knew Tony Stark for the Iron Man's iconic face, but no one realized that was not the mask he was hiding behind.

"Yep, cheers. To Earth's... Er... Midgard's? recovery," Tony said, taking another sip and feelings his cheeks flush. He should maybe quit after this glass. Tony feared he might become a little too loose-lipped around the god. But Loki still didn't look pacified. Tony tipped his head and sighed. "_Look_, Loki," he said, figuring he might as well get this over with here and now. "

I'm not gonna," he waved his arm in the general direction of the suits. "Nothing's gonna happen. You were the one who said you wanted to come down here, not me. So you don't have to worry." One hand plopped to the Liesmith's knee, giving it a small squeeze to show he wouldn't hurt the pale man. "Besides.I prefer hearing how amazing I am rather than how intimidating my weaponry might be," he chuckled, spinning around in his seat to start plucking through his holograms. "So just sit back and get comfy."

Loki looked down, staring at the warm hand on his leg. "I — I know, in my head, that you are right," he confessed, "but in my heart..." he trailed off. "... I still fear betrayal," he finished, laying himself bare.

Tony was alright, he reminded himself. Tony had just told him nothing would hurt him here, and Loki still retained enough presence of mind to distinguish a lie from the truth. Tony had been scared of Loki, too, just moments ago when Loki had pushed him down and rooted through his mechanical heart, and Loki hadn't hurt Tony. Why would Tony want to repay that with betrayal? Tony was a good man.

Far better an ally that Loki deserved, let alone friend. _Yes_, Tony was a friend.

The armor was merely that, right now; not an ambush, not a ploy, just Tony showing off his creations the same way Loki had had a collection of hand-carved staves in his chambers. He took a deep breath and finally felt himself relaxing. He have it a few more inhales and exhales before letting himself open his eyes, and the magic he hadn't noticed building up in his body, preparing to defend or attack, started dissipating.

When he opened his eyes again, Tony was playing with holograms, his back turned on Loki. It wasn't just a show of trust, it was also giving Loki privacy to compose himself. He smiled ruefully; when had he become so easy to read? He stood from his chair and approached Tony, resting his hands, one cold from holding the drink, on his shoulders.

Hearing Loki breath behind him, Tony smiled to himself. Huh. So the god really was trying to trust him? That was good. If it weren't for his own ego, Tony was honestly pretty sure Loki would be able to take him out, armor or no.

At least, not until the God Killer was finished.

Tony wanted to wince at himself, at the darker side of him that wished only to sit at the top, to protect himself and look down at the world that was full of only hurt and greed and lies. A small sigh escaped him as he expanded a digital blueprint of the Framrherrlae gun and began to change a few things around for the right internal processor when he felt hands on his shoulders.

He tensed up, his mind supplying him with possible scenarios. _"Oh, good. You were always the weaker man, Anthony Stark," Loki would say as his hands tightened from his shoulders to his throat. "Since you didn't take the first step, allow me to finish what I began months ago." There would be a laugh in that silky, cold voice. And then there would be pain and a struggle and—_

Tony shuddered but bid himself to will away the momentary fear, heart thundering in his chest. Jesus, they both had some crazy trust issues, didn't they? Not that they weren't justified but still.

Loki instantly felt Tony tense up, but he didn't if it was in surprise or because, like Loki, he had been expecting an attack of some sort. Saying nothing, Loki started massaging Tony's shoulders gently, mindful of his strength and the tension in Tony's muscles.

After a moment, Tony found he actually enjoyed the touch, the same as when Loki had put his hands on his shoulders at the table too sometime earlier. He secretly closed his eyes for a moment to revel in it. There was power inherent in those smooth, thin hands. The power to destroy him and yet heal him; sort of the same with Loki's mouth...

"What else do you make in here, Tony?" Loki asked, "besides armor and weapons? Do you invent the devices made by Stark Industries here?"

"What else?" Tony almost groaned from the massage. His fingers were plucking considerably slower over the hologram. "Hah, so highly-sophisticated weaponry and weaponized, augmenting suits aren't enough for you? Kidding. Yeah, I've developed a few other things, but I leave most of the more civilian commodities to the rest of my R&D department, just to give them something to do," Tony breathed, eyes still closed.

Oh, speaking of Stark Industries, that reminded Loki. "Now that I recall, they might want to back. Particularly certain woman named after spice." His hands clenched on Tony's shoulders, as if merely mentioning the responsibilities would take the man away from him.

"_Pepper?!"_ Tony's eyes shot open as he looked up to find Loki's face. "She's alright? She's okay?" How could... how could he have forgotten her? Tony suddenly remembered having held onto the memory of her face for the first month and a half before it became cloudy, and ultimately disappeared from his mind in the same way the Avengers had. If his father hadn't been so famous, with his face plastered here and there, he was pretty sure he'd have forgotten his face too, in the same way he'd forgotten his mother's months after they'd both died. Tony's eyes searched the god's for answers. "They... They want me back?"

Tony looked so vulnerable, his eyes huge as he tilted his head back to look at Loki, that Loki couldn't help but smile softly down at him. His massage turned into just stroking, as he caressed soothing circles with his thumbs into the back of Tony's shoulders, his other finger drumming gently and stoking the front, near the clavicle.

"Of course they want you back, Tony," he said. "Miss Potts has refused to lend SI's work to the war effort. She send me invoices every day, asking me to tell her of your whereabouts, and release you if we had you imprisoned. Every day, Tony."

Loki had kept them, merely to amuse himself that the puny mortal woman had thought that holding her company hostage would work to control a god. But he had since learned to respect, if not outright admire, her for her perseverance and bravery when confronting him, and her brains, too, when he had become annoyed and had started hunting her, only for her to slip through his fingers every single time.

"She... She did?" Tony asked. He sounded like a lost puppy. Pepper had held out for him even when he was too weak to do the same for her. It felt like more than he really deserved, honestly. He'd thought he was a dead man.

"Most of you employees went on strike the day I announced I had you prisoner," Loki added, seeing how touched Tony was and wanting to encourage it. "They have stopped production of all non-essential items," which had been why he had been trying so hard to get China on board with his project, "and have still not resumed it. They will be wanting you to make a public appearance, if you are willing?"

And a public appearance? Tony was busy working through what he might say, thinking about how he had used to do it all the time and hated it; despite all the attention, he hated the paparazzi and the press and the questions and blah blah blah. He'd much rather sit down here with his booze and his work — and now, maybe Loki. Tony looked wide-eyed up at the dictator. "Y–yeah. Public appearance. I can do that. I should probably give a few people back their jobs, yeah?" he chuckled breathlessly.

Who watched as Tony's mouth worked silently at first, finding his speechlessness incredibly charming, and found himself actually wanting to kiss him. But not yet; of course Loki was infatuated with this man, who was so clever and genuinely _good_ despite trying not to seem it; who wouldn't be? But it wasn't the moment to be pushing his infatuation onto him.

So instead Loki let go of Tony's shoulder and spun him around to face him.

"Hello. Hi, can I help you?" Tony couldn't help but quip with a laugh, seeing as he was turned away from the glowing schematics. So much for doing his work.

"Hi, Tony," Loki answered, smiling and a bit flushed, and sat back down on his assigned chair.

Tony could have sworn his heart skipped a beat when Loki answered him back. Oh, God, that was... adorable.

"I am sure the press will be delighted." And _oh, _would they ever! Some newspapers had been extremely critical against Loki — at least, once they had known for certain he wouldn't seek them out and smite them like a vengeful god, after he did nothing when the first one published a very unflattering caricature of him — and they had sorely missed their darling, Tony. Maybe an interview with the 'political prisoner' in question would calm them down a bit, shut them up.

Tony was all smiles up until Loki mentioned the press, his face becoming slack. "Uhhhn. Presssss," he groaned. Well, he supposed it was essential. He had to do it. Bleh.

Loki grinned. As a prize, he would arrange for Tony a meeting with Miss Potts. He would call her when he went upstairs to sleep, when he left Tony to work the night away. And for that, Tony needed the Tesseract... So, "Get to work, you," he poked Tony in the shoulder, grinning widely. "You still have to make something to put the Tesseract in." He swivelled in his chair, gesturing around them. "Chop chop, I believe the phrase goes?"

"Oh, fuck! Right!" Tony jumped and laughed, smacking his palm against his own forehead. "Sorry. It's not easy when you have a dictator down here distracting you," he chuckled at the alliteration, moving to grab some goggles and tossing a pair to Loki. "Here, put these on just in case. I'll make it right now," he snapped his fingers before pulling on a pair of work gloves.

Now in work-mode, the engineer strode over to another wide table with heavy machinery already set in place. It was set up like a laser metal cutter workbench, laser systems installed to adjust and cut through any surface he could calibrate it to. "Alright. Gonna need some of this," Tony said, moving over and grabbing a large sheet of hardened, transparent material that seemed to glistened with various colors in the light whenever it moved. It looked pliable like fiberglass.

"Okay, hey Jarv. Go ahead and throw me up a 3D blueprint, translate straight to print. Make it hmmm. Make it 7 by 7 by 7, got it? Just need a container for it right now."

"Of course, Sir. Blueprint complete, please place the material on the—"

"Uh huh, I got it, Mother," Tony snorted, setting the wide sheet on a large metal bed. The machine took it from there, Tony needing only to adjust a few things manually before he gave Jarvis a thumbs-up (and looking to make sure Loki had his goggles set in place first). The room filled with light and a strange keening sound, not entirely painful but not too pleasant either. S'what you got when cutting into a material designed to be harder than diamond. The same stuff he was using for the shields actually, in theory. It took no time at all for the machine to cut perfect slabs of the stuff, the edges still glowing as the machine powered down.

"Whooooo. Okay," Tony wiped a brow (it was hot standing near the damn things), before setting the slabs up again. This time, the machine churned as he held the items in place. "Alright, uhhh. Gimme our toughest poly-silicone sealant. Jeez this is so makeshift," he snorted at himself as eventually, he ended up with a perfect 'glass' box (with a lid on the top of course) and strode over with it towards the god. When he lifted the goggles from his face, it looked like the man had tanned in the sun for a whole damn day, the goggles leaving behind a slightly paler imprint.

"Sorry if you were expecting something prettier. I was working under a time limit, okay?" he waggled the open box towards Loki. "Say hello to the world's most expensive and most durable fish tank." Tony couldn't help but cackle.

Loki's mouth had gone dry, his legs crossed. "Hello, Fishtank," he croaked at the box, even waving his hand at it, "you are perfect."

Secretly, he meant that for Tony. Loki had wanted to kiss him before, yes; now, however, he wanted to push him back against his workbench and _ravish_ him. More than the lights and the parts of the lab working like perfectly greased clockwork, what had him all hot and bothered was Tony's sheer command of everything in the room. That, and the way his sweat-slicked hair curled at the ends, the way he looked so proud of himself when the finished product was perfect, the way his elegant fingers danced sensually as they created, the way his back moved like liquid when he stretched to tweak something here and there; the way he looked so capable, like no problem Loki could even hand him would remain without solution.

And here all Loki wanted to do was lean over, bury his fingers in his unruly hair and tug his head back to lick the sweat trailing down his neck, maybe even bite his adam's apple, feel him move as he parts his lips in a breathless moan..

He was incredibly glad for the goggles, for he knew his eyes would have given everything away if Tony had been able to see them. As it was, his heavy breathing, his clenched hands, the flush travelling all the way down his chest and back and the bulge straining the seam of his trousers were enough clues.

Wheeling himself closer to Tony — close enough to smell him, _by the Nine_ — he took off his goggles and handed them to Tony to dispose of, his heated gaze following the line in his neck where the tendons had shown in stark relief when Tony worked his particular brand of magic and then going to his lips, where he had clearly bitten them in concentration. Tearing his eyes away, but not before checking Tony's to see if he had caught Loki, he swallowed and, trying not to pant too much, he summoned the Tesseract and dumped it into the box.

The engineer scrubbed at his hair with one hand before setting the box down on the table closest to Loki. The Tesseract was summoned, the light once again bouncing around the room, turning it cool with its blue aura. It was while Loki was busy setting the crazy artifact in the box that Tony thought to see if Loki had suffered anything from the bright lights. Nope, no tan on the pale god's perfect face. '_God, it's like it's been chiseled out of marble.'_

Though... he did look sort of flushed, didn't he? And kind of bothered. And.

Oh.

Tony's mouth went a little slack as he realized all the signs, and, now that he was looking for it, Tony could see dilation there in those beautiful, emerald eyes. Impossible on its own, considering the near-blinding light that had been happening and all. The genius swallowed thickly, trying hard to concentrate on Loki's words and _not _on the urge to seat himself in the god's lap and see what kind of fun happened next. His heart began to thump heavily, chest tight.

"Seal it,"Loki said, his voice gravelly with arousal, interrupting Tony's fantasy. He didn't dare turn his gaze again upon the mortal, knowing for certain it would wander. "When you are done, pick it up; we shall see if you are immune now that is it contained."

"What? Oh, right," Tony nodded slowly, tearing his eyes away from Loki's... well... _everything_ before he popped the lid down. He'd installed a circular handle device, and with a quick twist, the box hissed and the lid sealed, air-tight. The Tesseract hummed, the energy swirling around inside of the box but never leaving, the tendrils snaking out as if examining its new enclosure. And then Tony picked it up, lifting it easily.

Loki observed Tony's eyes all the while, waiting for them to turn blue and pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen. This was good, extremely so. He turned his gaze toward the Tesseract in the not-quite-glass cage, grinning vindictively at it when the tendrils of light. like little lightning, explored the hermetically shut case. He did also feel a little pity for it — he disliked being caged and powerless too — so he stroked the not-glass, feeling the angry humming inside.

_'It is temporary_,' he murmured to it soothingly in his mind, '_we need to use your power and then you will be free again.' _Well, as free as it could be caged in Loki's infinitely larger yet just as hermetic subspace. He felt the returning hum, a different frequency that sounded more sullen than angry, '_You'd better_.' Loki guessed it would be crossing its arms and pouting if it had a body.

"Seems to be working like a charm," Tony grinned, daring to put his hand just under where the Tesseract sat directly. The thing didn't even react. "Ta daaa~!" the engineer sing-songed. "So do I get a gold star or what?" Tony, always bragging, but he couldn't help it. And besides, he really _did_ have to distract himself from that awfully tasty-looking dictator sitting right across from him.

Though... if Loki wanted him too...

"A gold star, yes," Loki turned to answer Tony, still not quite looking at him straight.

He was familiar with the concept; people tossed it around at the office, but mainly to other people who thought they deserved a special commendation for doing their job. From what he understood, the practise began when humans were very young, and they would receive a sticker in the shape of a star, as humans understood it, for good behaviour. So Tony was saying he wanted a prize.

Loki could give him one. Well, he could actually give him a _literal_ golden star, a tiny simulation of a star with tiny solar flares and gravity and everything, made from magic. But maybe he would reserve that sort of prize for when Tony successfully talked Fury into helping them. Stars and stones, Loki would give him a scaled model of the Sol system if Tony wanted him to.

For now, though...

Smirking, but not with any malice, Loki brought up his hand, palm up, and made a 'come hither' motion with his index finger.

So, Loki wanted him closer? He could do that. Tony was just in the process of getting up when—

"Whuuuh?!"

The chair beneath him developed a life of its own, knocking Tony back into a seated position as it wheeled over to Loki gathering a surprising amount of momentum in its short trajectory. Tony was pretty sure that he hadn't automated the damn thing; magic, maybe? The poor mortal felt like he was on a small rollercoaster without a seatbelt, and then the chair stopped cold, sending Tony flying into the god's lap with a small yelp, his face buried in the crook of Loki's neck.

Oh, hello. Amidst the sudden rush of adrenaline — and not a small bit of fear coursing through him — Tony felt himself instinctually draw in the god's scent. Clean and crisp and almost inhuman. He groaned a little, and had to force himself to lift his head without lovingly kissing a trail along that pale, smooth column, looking now at the Asgardian's — no, Jotun's face. His own was flushed with heat, the 'perks' of his seat not exactly going unnoticed. He swallowed and nodded, because, oh, Gods, wasn't this exactly what he wanted?

Loki's arms went straight around Tony's back when he raised his head, his body instinctively trying to hold Tony closer when it perceived an attempt to get away. Bending his head to speak right into his ear, Loki murmured hotly, "Will a kiss suffice?"

* * *

**T.B.C. on Wednesday 19th of June.**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_The light of the arc reactor glowed unabashedly against Loki's chest, as if they shared the same affliction and Tony's body shuddering beneath the new, naked touches and Loki's hot breath against his ear._

_Loki didn't regret a thing. Instead of apologising, or explaining, he cupped Tony head and murmured in his ear, "May I mark you in return?"_

* * *

**End notes:**

Notice how this chappie was shorter? That's because smut follows. Which sucks for you guys, because I have a firm follow-the-TOS policy, and I ain't allowed to post porn here, so I'm gonna be censoring the hardcore stuff. So I recomend you find this fic on AO3, or on my tumblr if you are here for the sex. It's not like you're gonna miss anything important if you skip it, though. I mean, it's just _sex_.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	10. Gold Star Part 1

**Chapter Title: **Gold Star

**Chapter Rating**: M. (Finally!)

**Chapter Length: **4k/170k-ish (originally 6k)

**Chapter Warnings: **nudity, general sexiness, and **no fucking**. (Yeah, that's a warning, I don't want you guys to have blue balls)

**Chapter Summary:**

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

"Yep," Tony answered similarly, his brown eyes already dancing over Loki's lips, licking his own. "That'll — yeah, that'll work," he murmured, already leaning in to capture the god's offer eagerly. Because honestly, if he waited any longer, he was pretty sure he'd go insane.

Which was exactly what Loki had been hoping to hear. The warm puffs of his shaky exhales tickled Loki's sensitive skin, and he finally got his wish of burying his hand in Tony's hair, grasping it and using it to pull Tony's head the last inch closer. He hesitated for maybe half a second, his lips barely grazing Tony's, as his half-lidded eyes fixed on Tony's to look for any sign that the mortal, so warm and vulnerable in his lap, didn't want this. Seeing none, he let his lids fall shut and pressed his lips to Tony's with a small moan.

As soon as their lips met, Tony's body thrummed with heat. He noticed every detail, as was the engineer's usual habit; the fingers snaking into his hair, the taste of one of his favorite scotches on the god's perfect lips, the clean smell of Loki's breath and skin. Tony's own eyes were so blown out trying to take in everything of the god that he had to squeeze them shut, only making every touch that much more religious.

Loki smiled at the answering pressure and exhaled through his nose in relief, his arms pulling Tony even closer as he pecked his lips, ending the chaste, gentle kiss. He should have stopped there, the prize already given, but he couldn't resist kissing him again, softly, and he couldn't stop the tip of his tongue sneaking out, wanting to taste Tony, and licking gently along the seam of Tony's lips.

"Nnn..." Tony hummed against the other's mouth, unable to help but move his body slowly against the pale man's body, throwing his arms around Loki's neck. When he felt the other's tongue, Tony immediately bid him entrance. A thick groan escaped his throat, curling up from his mouth as he met tongue to tongue.

Even though Loki had envisioned ravishing Tony against the wall (or the chair, or the bench, he wasn't picky), when the moment came Loki was unable to be anything but gentle and sensuous, all of a sudden preferring the tantalisingly soft caress of lips against lips rather than a hard battle for dominance full of biting and spit and thrusting tongues. There would be time for that later.

It was actually pretty surprising to the playboy, how subtle and gentle Loki was being. There was no doubt that Loki could be — after all, all of those touches he'd received were always soft and caressing, when they could simply crush him beneath all that hidden strength — but still, Tony couldn't help but be thrilled by it all. He was used to shoving another down and taking them for himself, but this was different.

He needed more of this. He was greedy, he always got what he wanted. And right now he wanted this. He wanted this God of Chaos, one he found he actually might be able to worship. With his body.

Humming pleasantly in the back of his throat, Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue tickling Tony's briefly before grazing the wrinkles of his palate, lapping at the underside of Tony's upper lip as it retreated. He sucked Tony's lower lip into his mouth and bit it gently as he pulled Tony closer, sliding him the last few inches onto his lap.

The contact of what _had_ to be Tony's answering arousal had his lips parting in a breathless moan, and he released Tony's lip in favour of concentrating on the warmth and pressure and the solid weight of Tony against his chest, feeling all the points of contact burn like a brand. His lips remained parted, though, inviting Tony to play as well, and the hand in his rough hair started stroking and carding through, encouraging Tony. He revelled in the contact, in the nearness, and purred affectionately when his hand stole under Tony's shirt, his nails grazing the soft skin under the hem.

Okay, then, Mr. President. If he was going to be nice and slow about it, Tony was going to be the more mischievous one. Seeing the moment Loki pulled away to gasp, likely from his body pressed up against the taller man, Tony snuck his fingers through the other's locks and did what Loki had fantasized about doing to him, unknowingly. He tugged the other's head back gently while Tony took the chance to nudge the other's turtleneck line down with his chin and nip lightly over the other's neck.

Loki let out a soft hiss when Tony pulled his head back by his hair, and he had been about to scold him when the felt teeth and hot wet breath on his neck. He did a little 'hnnn' sound at the back of his throat, his hand curling involuntarily in Tony's hair as it turned into a moan. "Aah, _Tony_," he almost whimpered, tilting his head further back without being prompted and panting loudly.

Encouraged, Tony licked up along the smooth column to the man's chin, needing to lift himself up a bit to reach Loki's mouth again because he was so fucking tall.

Loki, lost in the feeling, started rolling his hips into Tony's but then Tony was getting away, his spit cooling on Loki's neck. Loki opened his eyes, surprised, and saw Tony towering over him as best he could. He closed them again when Tony licked into his mouth, letting him take control of the kiss because he was that far gone already, wanting nothing more than Tony's mouth, Tony's hands, _just more Tony_. The wet slide of tongues and the warmth of their shared breath slowly but surely drove Loki desperate, his hips thrusting into air, hoping for relief that didn't come.

Tony moaned when he dipped his tongue again past the other's lips, wet muscle sliding over the god's teeth. His body hummed with pleasure each time his tongue slid over the other's (he had always been an advocate for French kissing), dancing to some unheard tune while he began to rock his body into Loki's stomach. He urged for friction, enjoying how he felt Loki shift beneath him while he teased.

The closest he'd ever been with a man before was spooning drunk with a few college buddies, but like this, with his body wanting nothing but absolute touch, it didn't feel wrong or weird or awkward or... anything _like _that at all. The fact that this was something new for the playboy only made him want the damn god more. So he teased, because that was what Tony knew best, pressing himself down against Loki's lap and slowly grinding himself, and because of his damn height, he'd settled for sucking against the other's neck and hoping that'd suffice.

The contact of crotch against crotch again, even though their respective trousers, had Loki's hands going straight for Tony's hips, guiding the slow, sensual movement into even slower, sweeter and more tortuous thrusts.

Pace set, Loki brought his hands up to Tony's waist, feeling the lean muscle shift under his touch, and then he felt suddenly hot, so hot; he needed to take off his turtleneck _that very moment._ Growling at the need for interruption, he pushed Tony back, instantly mourning that hot mouth and clever tongue on his neck, and, swiping a hand over his chest, he got rid of his upper clothing, immediately feeling the relief.

Tony let out a small whine when his mouth was forced to stop tasting wherever he could, watching through lust-hazed eyes as the man rid himself of his shirt with _magic._ "Oh, well, that's handy," Tony half-chuckled, half-breathed out, his hands moving to Loki's hips while he waited patiently (or semi-patiently) for the god to give him the okay.

And what Loki revealed was nothing more perfect than a fucking Greek sculpture. Not built like a powerhouse like Thor, but not scrawny either. Loki was all lean muscle, graceful shapes curling under milky white skin. And Tony was pretty sure he'd never gotten it up just by looking at a _man's_ body before now, but if he wasn't already sporting a stiffy, he was sure he would be just because of that. "Fuck..." he breathed, eyes and hands roaming appreciatively over Loki's form.

Loki saw Tony's interest and he answered that with a grin. "Where were we?" he asked rhetorically, his voice rough with want, and he pulled Tony closer again, guiding Tony face towards his neck by the back of his head, his hips resuming the slow rhythm. "Tony," he growled hotly into his mortal's ear, "_mark me_."

Tony didn't need to be urged to press up against said body when Loki bid him back, Tony already attacking the god's neck, grazing teeth over his collarbone, licking with the flat of his tongue over the crook of his shoulders. He hummed at the taste wanting Loki to feel his excitement and reveling at the way Loki's skin pinked wherever he nipped and played.

That only made Loki's request (or was it a command? Tony didn't care, it was _hot)_ more delicious. Tony's lips pressed over a pulse he found on his god's neck, licking and sucking as he pleased. Because Loki _wanted_ him too, and so did he. The first mark left was already flowering into a brilliant violet bruise, but he found he couldn't stop there, moving his teeth down over his shoulder and biting down, only to lap over the offending mark with his tongue as if in apology. All the while, he never stopped writhing, teasing his ass over the other's strained arousal.

The nips and sucks of Tony's darling mouth went straight to Loki's crotch, and he didn't need a mirror to know his whole neck and chest area was flushed pink. He threw his head back and to the side to leave Tony even more room, moaning with abandon and the sudden pain of a real bite. He grinned, very satisfied; it seemed that Tony had taken the suggestion seriously, doing his best to permanently mark Loki as his own.

He laid back and enjoyed the attention, stroking the back of Tony's head and neck, sighing contentedly, and shifted lower on the chair, getting comfortable and making Tony sit higher on his hips. His crotch was rubbing against the seam of Tony's jeans, right under his arse, and the mental images of doing this exact dance, only sans clothes had him panting faster and licking his lips, his mouth dry.

Thinking Tony wouldn't object, maybe even hoping he wouldn't notice, seeing how involved he was with Loki's neck, he decided to steal Tony's shirt — again — but to do so in the sneakiest way possible. First, to distract him, he pulled on Tony's hair until he lifted his face — _oh, spirits, _his reddened lips looked delicious — drew him into a toe-curling, brain-melting kiss and then, when they were both breathless, he tilted his head to the other side and tapped his neck, high up, near his jaw.

"Here, Tony," he groaned, his eyes blazing into Tony's desire-glazed ones, "mark me here, so I cannot hide it, and everyone will know, so I shall remember every time I see my reflection."

Tony barely knew what was happening. All he knew was that he was listening to the god's word and sucking where Loki wanted him to suck, receiving the most mind-blowingly sizzling kiss ever. He was moaning and panting into Loki's neck, somehow finding his mouth sucking hard against the dip between Loki's perfect jawline and neck, breathing hotly against purpled and pinked flesh.

He was allowed to mark Loki, and so he would. He would claim the damn god for himself. Tony almost had to stifle a proud chuckle; if it was true and Loki didn't hide the marks, then everyone would see them every time the dictator went up live on TV or showed up for a press conference or _anything_. The thought of it made the mortal groan thickly, his arousal twitching excitedly just beneath the cloth of his jeans.

Loki moaned almost melodically and clutched at his back, partly because he felt like he would fall of the chair otherwise, and partly to getting Tony used to the feeling of a warm, hungry hand groping at his skin. Then, he phased the shirt through Tony's body, knowing he wouldn't feel a thing, and tossed it over the cage of the Tesseract.

"Muuh... God, this is hot. This is _way_ fucking hot," Tony murmured, eyes half-lidded as he ran his teeth over Loki's ear, licking and pulling at the lobe playfully.

But Loki's other hand betrayed him, running up Tony's flat, toned stomach, nails grazing the skin only hard enough to raise prickly red welts but not damage in any way, and started stroking Tony's nipple, two fingers circling the soft, soft skin and barely brushing over the forming nub, and when Tony's breath caught he knew the game was up.

Tony gasped at the touch of fingers against hardened nipples, finally feeling the chill of the room, and his eyes shot open to look down to see himself shirtless now as well. The light of the arc reactor glowed unabashedly against Loki's chest, as if they shared the same affliction and Tony's body shuddering beneath the new, naked touches and Loki's hot breath against his ear.

Loki didn't regret a thing. Instead of apologising, or explaining, he cupped Tony head and murmured in his ear, "May I mark you in return?"

He didn't even need to think about it, pulling a hand up through the back of Loki's hair, cupping his head and bidding Loki's face to move to his neck as his lifted his own. "Have at it, Babe. I'm all yours."

Oh, yes, _finally_.

Loki grinned against Tony's neck, littering a trail of kisses along the dip between tendon and adam's apple. Tony's skin was rough and prickly with stubble, and Loki _loved_ the feeling against his lips and cheeks, so he nuzzled and laughed, delighted, when the very short, very hard hairs tickled him. "You are all scratchy," he murmured approvingly, the joy obvious in his voice.

He nosed along Tony's jaw, his tongue sneaking out to lap at the skin now and then, lulling Tony into a false sense of security, and then, when he felt Tony humming in pleasure at the touch, he simultaneously pinched Tony's nipple, lowered his other hand to grope his arse through his jeans, and bit the adam's apple under his face hard enough to leave indents yet not cause any pain.

_"Ah!"_ Breathy hisses escaped Tony's lips as the god tweaked his nipples, everything sensitive and on fire. Tony gasped lightly when one of Loki's slender hands slipped down to his ass, Loki giving him so much to concentrate on that his mind was reeling and he was holding on as if for dear life. Loki had Tony's eyes rolling from the pleasure of every single touch, setting a pleasant fire to his flesh wherever the god treated him.

Tony twitched in Loki's lap, understandably, and Loki wanted nothing more than to make his bothersome jeans vanish from existence, but he realised it may just be the thing to scare Tony away from him. Instead, he decided to appreciate what he _did_ have instead of mourning what he hadn't, for once in his life, and soothed Tony with soft touches and murmurs and licks to the bite mark.

And Tony, really, was a dear; he just let Loki do as he wanted. The human clutched to Loki and rocked his hips, his head tilted away for Loki to have all the access he wanted, giving way and melting under those lips, that tongue, his teeth and purring breath. Tony had never realized just how kinky it could be to be treated like this, to be handled and wanted — Jesus, Loki made this feel like his freaking first time!

Loki rewarded his pliancy with a pinch to the other nipple, his knuckles brushing against the reactor plate, and then he sucked a bruise right under Tony's ear, exactly the same place where Tony had made Loki's mark. '_Matching hickies_,' he smiled, sucking another piece of skin between his lips and scratching it softly with his teeth. He made his way up again, his hand reverently circling the scar tissue that surrounded the device that allowed Tony to keep living on stolen time, and kissed his cheek gently.

Tony could feel the hickey burning pleasantly beneath his jaw and ear, and when the god circled the sensitive scar tissue, Tony's hips jumped a little. He was pretty sure his boxers were getting a bit damp here. "G-guh, oh, fuck, _Loki_," he growled, mind reeling because holy shit that was sensitive and wonderful and beautiful and he wanted more. All the while, his hands were desperately working over Loki's body, mapping out the entire topography of his chest and stomach before snaking around to claw raised pink lines over the other's shoulder and spine, counting ribs.

And it was then Tony realized he really _did _have a danger kink. Here he was, swapping spit and hickies with the damn dictator of the planet, the man who'd single handedly taken over most of the world and tossed him in the slammer. The god who could easily crush him with his bare hands just as easily as he could hex Tony with something more than foul. The man who'd lived for far longer than his whole lineage was even a thing that existed; the thought wasn't even creepy. It only made Tony's head spin faster, the spaces inside of his skull made of nothing but cloudy, overwhelming ecstasy.

"You feel so good," Loki told him, whispering seductively in his ear. Then he ran the tip of his tongue along the shell and blew softly, chuckling. "Kiss me again," he said, but it was not an order; it was a request he didn't dare voice as such, for fear of sounding needy.

And Tony obeyed of his own free will. He grabbed the other by the hair and sucked Loki's bottom lip into his mouth, licking over Loki's lips and humming loudly. His kisses were sloppier now, needy and raw, the same as his movements. Tony was grinding himself down against the other's propped erection to tease him, but it was a double edged sword. He was practically rubbing himself unbidden against Loki now, eyes lidded with his want.

Loki was almost grinding Tony into his lap by the bruising handhold he had on his hips, and he met every thrust with one of his own. Tony was all but eating his mouth, seemingly wanting to consume him, and Loki loved every second of it. He licked at Tony's tongue, feeling the velvety underside of it and thinking what it would be like to feel it on his cock, and sucked on it hungrily, wanting nothing more than to hear the muffled moan of pleasure fan over his face.

"Muh–more..." Tony growled, catching Loki's upper lip and chewing on it softly, his tongue licking up against the top of the Liesmith's mouth. "I w–want more..."

He released it with one last, parting chew and pulled on Tony's hair, tilting his head back and making him arch his chest into Loki's. "More, huh?" He lean down to savagely bite and suck at Tony's exposed throat, burying his nose under Tony's ear and breathing him in, and looked around.

The least cluttered bench was behind Tony, some meters away, and he waved his hand brusquely at it, snarling, clearing it urgently, before wheeling the chair closer to it and standing up with Tony little more than a precious burden in his arms.

Tony let out a short, excitable cry as soon as they were up again, standing. It sounded almost like a muffled laugh but he didn't know anymore, his lips never wanting to leave that delicious, pallid skin. His arms had snaked around Loki's neck as if to hold on, and he found them both moving backwards, and he didn't care.

He liked where this was going, nipping and sucking and writhing to make it all the more difficult; because Tony found one of things he was beginning to like most about this was how sweetly he could break that calm, casual countenance of Loki's. The dictator was always so composed around him, guarding his most raw emotions behind those gorgeous lips, behind a witty, restrained smile, and cool, almost predatory eyes. Tony enjoyed replacing that with the wanting, needy look he saw now. He was practically smirking at his little triumphs, even if he too was red-faced and wild-eyed.

Loki put him on the workbench as gently as he could with his mortal writhing, wrecked, against him and distracting him, and bent over him, his hips straining against Tony in a frenzy of heat and friction, looking down at him heatedly. Their eyes met, and his and Tony's pants and underwear vanished without even a conscious thought on Loki's part, leaving them _finally_ skin to skin.

"Nyugh! _Cold!_" the billionaire yelped with a laugh, finding that _oh, hello_, every bit of clothing was gone from them. His skin was all gooseflesh from the cool metal of the table and all the damn foreplay, and now that there was nothing between them.

Overwhelmed, Loki's arms faltered and he caught himself on his elbows, lest he crush Tony. They ended up forehead to forehead, nose to nose, breathing the same hot, humid air, panting, their eyes locked.

Tony took the chance to _look._ He was practically gaping at the contact, the way their bodies pressed flush to each other. Fuck if it wasn't hot having the taller man lording over him like this. As if in supplication, Tony brushed his face upwards and making sure Loki could feel his teeth and the scratchyness of his beard, nipping up over the adam's apple and the tight flesh beneath his jaw.

Then Loki realised he was about to ravish Tony _in his lab_, on a metal table, and his hips stopped moving, merely pressing their cocks together. It was still distracting as nothing Loki had felt before, but he could think with a measure of clarity. "I mean to have you, Tony," he spoke softly, gently, looking right into Tony's dilated pupils so Tony could see exactly what he meant, "but not here. Not our first time."

He wanted Tony comfortable and relaxed. He wanted Tony warm and soft and content and with no bruises Loki didn't put there himself. He wanted Tony arching his back in ecstasy, moaning in Loki's ears; he wanted Tony exposed and conquered and all _Loki's_. And he wanted to do that in Tony's bed. He could defile Tony's sanctuary later; for now, he wanted to _worship him_.

'_I mean to have you, Tony._' The words shivered through him, making his now-free cock jump against Loki's since they were pressed so tightly against each other, Tony's hands grasping to never let him escape. Seeing Loki's own darkened eyes, he nodded, practically panting. A half-smirk crept to his lips as he understood. "R–right. We can arrange that," he chuckled, licking over Loki's lips. His eyes snuck to the elevator then back to Loki with a question. "You wanna take that back or... _poof?_" Tony laughed, making an exploding sort of motion with one hand.

Loki tilted his head to the right and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think?" he asked, smiling, and tapped Tony's nose affectionately. If Tony thought for one second that Loki would be able to put him down long enough to walk to the elevator, or even carry him through the trip and endure the wait, he was sorely wrong. He picked up Tony's legs and put them around his waist so he could hold on and helped him sit up, their cocks sliding deliciously together. His arms curled around Tony securely, one around his shoulders, the other around his lower back, and he murmured, "Close your eyes, Tony."

* * *

**T.B.C. on Friday 21st of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

[CENSORED]

* * *

**End notes: **Next chapter will have all the sex censored out when I post it on this site. No sex will happen on FFNET, as per the TOS. Sorry, I don't make the rules. Please do tell me if something slipped my very inexperience radar!

Another thing! Since next chapter ended up being only 1k long, I cut off half of this one and put in on the other one for a nicer, more even distributon of text.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	11. Gold Star Part 2

**Chapter Title: **Gold Star (part 2)

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length:** probably 3 k/170k-ish (originally 5-ish k)

**Chapter Warnings:** censored smut.

**Chapter Summary: **Sometimes, sex happens.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Tony wriggled his nose from the tap, looking up and drawing in a breath as he was lifted. Well... This was new. He wasn't often carried — he usually did the carrying — and Loki picked him up as easily as a kid picking up a leaf. Tony squeezed his legs around the god's waist, in part to hold on tight and in part to feel himself move against Loki, before he was resting his head in the crook of the others neck and closing his eyes.

Loki followed his own instruction and closer his eyes as well, his magic gathering inside and around him and Tony, cocooning them in a soft cloak of golden and green sparks. He did his best to spare Tony the unpleasantness of becoming little more than a beam of quarks by doing the next best thing to teleportation: creating a portal.

It was why he had bidden Tony to close his eyes; most people didn't deal well with the void between connecting pieces of the universe. The shield of magic was another measure, protecting them both from the lack of pressure and the chill. He only needed to take a step back and he walked, carrying Tony with him, through the slit in spacetime his magic had made.

Tony fought the urge to open his lids, however, seeing golden light hum through. It took every fiber of his curious being not to look, but he wouldn't chance seeing some kind of Cthulhu eldergod bullshit and lose his boner. Or whatever the hell was happening. He felt his skin tingle and vibrate lightly with unseen forces as Loki moved but he could've chalked that up to his excitement.

Loki kept walking backwards, navigating blindly, until he hit another portal; the exit. Tony was still hot and breathing hard and writhing minutely against Loki, who grinned, opening his eyes to the darkness of the room.

"Jarvis, lights at fifty percent," he said, hitching Tony up further, humming at the friction, and walked towards Tony's bed. "You may open your eyes now, Tony, if you truly wish to," he murmured, kissing Tony's neck. He glared at the covers until they folded down.

Tony poked one eye open, then the other to see the penthouse bedroom. "Huh. That's _really_ nifty," he laughed breathlessly.

And then Loki let them both fall forwards onto the bed, both of them landing gently on the mattress. Before Tony could even react, Loki caught his hands, held them over his head, and proceeded to leave a trail of burning down his throat and chest. He kissed the glass of the arc reactor once, in gratitude to its labour, and then went to town on one of Tony's nipples, sucking and biting softly while Tony's cock left a wet trail on his stomach.

"Ah, _oh, God,_" Tony moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and squirming beneath Loki's mouth, little desperate noises escaping him. The mattress beneath him caved easily to his contour — and it was no wonder the god had enjoyed this bed.

The wide expanse of lavish blankets and expensive pillows suddenly brought something into perspective too. If he was this infatuated with the Liesmith, maybe he could offer the god rest here. With him... Because Tony was pretty sure he wasn't going to be satisfied with just one round.

Hands twisted in place but it was no good. The damn god's grip was like a vice, only a testament to just how much power the man currently having fun with his tongue and a nipple was sporting. "Nuuuuh, Loki, fuck," he was panting again, drawing his knees up, toes curling. He was almost completely at Loki's mercy. And he was loving it.

Loki slid back up Tony's body to steal a kiss from him, adding yet another to the building count, then he held himself up, away from Tony's body — or at least as far as he could get with his hips trapped between Tony's legs, cocks stroking each other slowly. His long hair hung down over his ears, the ends brushing Tony's cheeks, framing his and Tony's faces in some sort of tunnel that only left room for each other.

Wow. Loki looked _amazing_ with his hair framed over his face like that, Tony looking up at the god while they kissed. He reveled in just how the god looked so _undone_, having moved from the turtleneck and jeans to wearing absofuckinglutely nothing at all. His fingers curled, nails clutching over Loki's hand while he drank in the kisses, returning them with an eager fervor since he could actually do something about it. With the restriction of his arms, Tony was a bit trapped, his mouth a weapon as he tried to lap every little ounce of pleasure from the other's mouth whenever he could.

Loki pulled away, throwing his head back and tilting it at the same time, silky hair following the movement in an arc and falling like a waterfall of ink down the left side of his face, letting the light through. The movement had Tony straining after him, craning his neck forward but unable to reach him, the frustration only causing him more pleasure, making him writhe.

Knowing Tony could see his face perfectly, Loki smirked salaciously and feasted his eyes upon Tony's flesh. His magic, overflowing, dripped out through gaze, so Tony would feel sparks tickling against his skin wherever Loki's regard was.

Tony could see there was a certain glint in Loki's eyes. And not just the mischievous kind, there was an actual _glint_ of fire or magic or something he didn't understand. Loki moved his gaze away from his face and Tony _felt_ it. Like a hand or something, some kind of invisible pressure that set his flesh ablaze and his cock twitching. "Oh, _h_–_holy mother, _what is _that?"_ he moaned desperately, arching up against the body propped over his, grinding up in waves, his arousal eager for any attention it could get.

Loki, liking Tony's reaction enough that he didn't prevent the magic from escaping, watched each of Tony's nipples in turn, making Tony arch. Then slowly, very slowly, turned his eyes down, following the lines of his ribs, his belly button, and, forgetting himself, fixing them where the head of both their members lay side by side.

Tony yelped at that moment because suddenly that same _pressure_ was on his dick. Loki was gasping, feeling it too; a million sparks of fire, or electricity, all over the very sensitive skin. His eyes fell shut and a soft whine escaped him as he bowed, tense, over Tony's body. Then, since his eyes were shut, the feeling stopped; he fell, as a puppet with its strings cut, panting hard into the fold of Tony's neck. He licked, tasting the sweat that had gathered there, and laughed freely. "Wow," he said, propping his upper body up again and grinning down at Tony. "Never knew what that felt like."

He realised he was still keeping Tony's arms hostage and, the grin sweetening into a tender smile completely unconsciously, Loki let them go. He rolled his hips equally sweetly, his cock dragging along Tony's in brain-melting friction.

Tony shuddered without shame beneath Loki, and when his arms were released his hands immediately clawed their way down Loki's back and grabbed fistfuls of ass. He held the other in place while Loki ground his hips, drawing another healthy moan as their slick cocks glided against each other; he could feel _everything._

Loki panted, "How do you want me, Tony? If it you let me choose, I do not think I would know where to begin," he started, his voice gravelly and sinful; his eyes, fixed on Tony's told him Loki would have him in all the ways he knew how, and several he could come up with at the moment. "I could taste you all over, leaving no square centimeter of you untouched." He licked his lips hungrily. "I could lick and suck on your cock and even let you rut into my mouth, or I could lick you open and fuck you with my tongue and my fingers until you see white." His eyes fluttered shut, imagining, and he moaned softly.

"I could take you for mine own on your knees," his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "savagely, like the animals we are; or I could love you slowly, face to face, our fingers entwined as we look into each other's eyes." Loki was panting at his own imaginings, and when he looked at Tony again there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I could ride you with abandon, fucking myself on your cock, as though you were an offering, a sacrificial lamb," he exhaled hotly, "I could curl my legs around your powerful hips as _you_ take _me_." He trembled as he lowered himself, speaking the last words against Tony's mouth. "I could let my magic roam all over you, _into_ you, tendrils of fire and light leaving no spot unexplored... You know what that is like, mm?"

There was no limit, really. Anything was good with him.

"N–nnnnnn... Fuck... Well, w–when you put it all that way..." Tony petered off, breathing hard. Loki had listed things off like they were on a damn menu, each scenario spoken thrusting Tony's creative little mind off in several different tangents, all of which involved tongues and sweat and moaning and a pale body and mind-numbingly explosive orgasms. Tony's hips quirked in excitement, rutting up against his newfound lover's (did he just think that?) groin before he gripped Loki's arms _hard._ Tony had paused and looked pointedly up at that pale face, grabbing a fistful of hair and urging him down to him.

"_Fuck me,_ Loki." It was a growl at Loki's ear, moving his hips up and capturing their dicks between their stomachs, sliding around to punctuate his words. He couldn't take much more of this, Jesus.

Tony was pretty sure it might hurt but he didn't care. Perhaps it was the Stockholm Syndrome or the thinly-hidden masochistic side of him (he did have the habit of inviting his favorite dominatrix over for tea every other Wednesday, before all this), but Tony Stark _wanted _Loki. Perhaps it was the fear of living through tomorrow and maybe dying, or maybe the god wouldn't want him after tonight; what if this was his only chance?

"Claim me. Make me your's. T-there's... there's lube in-in... over there. _Fuck_. _Nightstand_," he waggled a hand against the mattress, pointing crudely at said nightstand out of reach. Loki was slowly rendering him without the ability to actually form words. He wanted this. And besides, who ever said there was pleasure without a little pain?

Loki grinned and snatched Tony's hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on the pulse, staring down at Tony. He pulled it higher and, after kissing the crook of his elbow and delicately lapping at the soft skin, he licked a broad stripe up his forearm, wrist, palm and fingers, culminating in a soft suckle at the fingertip. He nuzzled the hand, giving little kisses to the amazingly talented fingers — the closest he could get to kissing Tony's talent itself — and murmured, eyes narrowed in pleasure like a cat's, "Perk of fucking a wizard: you need no oil or creams to ease the way."

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

Loki let himself drop gracelessly to Tony's left, rolling onto his side and untangling his legs from Tony's. He watched Tony's satisfied — completely fucked out, really — face and smiled, kissing his shoulder and throwing one arm around his middle and a leg between his. "Good?" he asked teasingly, knowing Tony had loved everything from beginning to end. He was still too warm to throw the bedcovers on, and both of them were panting mightily.

Tony moved to follow suit, and, while the god shifted, so did he, throwing a leg between Loki's and pulling it possessively to him. He usually wasn't one for an after-sex snuggle, but tonight was a strange and amazing exception to a lot of things. "Fucking A+," he sighed. pulling Loki flush to him and settling for resting his face against the crook of the taller man's neck, feeling his pulse beat against his forehead.

Abruptly, Loki froze. He has just _assumed_ Tony wouldn't mind if he stayed the night, sharing his bed. He hadn't even doubted it for one second, not even pausing to ponder if _he_ wanted to stay. It was just... a given. His hand curled with doubt over Tony's pectoral and he hesitated. Should he ask? Was it too much presumption on his part to even think he would be allowed?

He watched pensively as a bead of sweat made its way down Tony's chest, which was still heaving. "Tony," he begun, and stopped, biting his lip. How to even ask...? "May I share your bed tonight?" He sounded as unsure as he felt, but he trusted that any apparent breathiness or weakness in his voice would be chalked up to his laboured breathing. And yet, the way his limbs curled tighter over Tony...

Tony pulled his face away and quirked a brow. "Are you kidding me? Do you even have to ask?" Tony chuckled tiredly, squeezing with his legs a little to make a point.

But there was something else there. Otherwise, why else would Loki make a point to ask? The genius connected the dots quickly. How many times had Loki fucked someone, only for it to end up as a quickie with nothing else? Did the god crave more? Like everything else, the deity was more than just what one saw on the outside. There were hidden truths and lies just beneath his skin, behind the masks he so carefully crafted, again something Tony could only realize because he did the same thing.

Stark smirked and took it upon himself to nuzzle back into Loki's neck again, giving it a little playful nip. "Sure. 'Course you can stay." He chuckled. "After all, I might need someone to carry me in the morning."

Loki jumped slightly, not having expected the teeth, and laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Lovely," he laughed, "I am to be your palanquin, then." He shivered slightly against Tony, their combined sweat cooling rapidly, and he hummed, crowding even closer. "Cold," he murmured, and waved the covers onto them.

The sheets were incredibly soft against his skin and he purred, relaxing into their fold. His arm, however, dipped into something slimy and cold near Tony's belly — oh, right, they hadn't cleaned up. Loki really did not feel like getting up, getting _Tony_ up, and washing up. But he had the next best thing, magic. It was a matter of simply murmuring a rune and his magic washed over Tony and him, drying them and removing traces of cum on their bodies.

As a bonus, he performed a small healing spell on Tony, mainly a painkiller, to dull the ache he would feel in the morning around his lower back, but leaving the pleasant soreness of a good rut behind. That expenditure of magic felled him, and he yawned, settling against Tony's side. "Lights, Jarvis?" he asked sleepily, voice slurring slightly. Then he added, "Night, Tony," and closed his eyes to the dulling lights.

He could still see the glow of the arc reactor through his eyelids. He had never thought a light could be so reassuring, but there it was. He fell asleep listening to Tony's measured breathing, exhausted by the little sleep he had been getting lately and the mind-blowing sex.

Tony fell asleep easily in the fold of Loki's arms, glad that he didn't have to get up to shower because that would've been a bit of a pain (unless, you know, he took it with Loki). So he simply curled up against the other man, the first time in a long time he'd had this much touch, and he was enjoying it.

He fell asleep to dreams of a land of snow and ice, a borealis dancing in the sky.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 24th of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"You feel so good," Loki muttered, eyes pleasantly closed, "so soft and warm. Perfect. Simply perfect. My mortal, my Tony," and a slew of other embarrassing mumbles, half praise and half stunned worship, right into Tony's ear._

_His mortal._

_Tony couldn't say he'd ever been called that before._

* * *

**End notes: **

Yeah, censored. Next chapter as well, since, well, morning sex. And shower sex. *Winces* Dok and I got carried away, since it was FINALLY smut after month and 50k worth of RP.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	12. Morning After

**Chapter Title:** Morning After

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length: ** 4k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **Censored Sex. People being casual about nakedness.

**Chapter Summary: **It wouldn't be a proper morning after without some morning sex, would it?

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

When Tony woke, it was in still relative darkness, the digital 'blinds' drawn on the wide glass window. He poked his eyes open, feeling another body wrapped around him, an alien feeling, not something he had felt in a long time. Even before he was locked away, he had again never been one for cuddling. The closest thing he had ever come to that was with Pepper, and that hadn't lasted. Not at all. He was always too tense.

"Mmmnnnn..." Tony yawned, smacking his lips when he suddenly remembered everything that had happened last night. Another flush came to his face as he turned, looking over to see that –yep- he was _spooning _with the God of Lies. Tony cleared his throat, and after reliving those head-spinning moments last night, he shuffled backwards, closer into Loki's naked body. "Hmmm..." he murmured happily, only to realize.

Oh. Hello, morning wood. Tony winced at himself, at the irritating stiffness in his groin. That Loki was pressed against him and the recollection of everything didn't exactly help the cause either. "Nnn... fuck..." he whispered to himself, not really sure if he wanted to wake the god just yet.

Loki was indeed asleep, but not for much longer, if Tony kept squirming against him so sweetly. He moaned softly in his sleep, dreaming of Tony riding him to completion, the touch only integrating into his dream instead of waking him. Had he been awake, he would be ashamed of how much his cock was dripping, of how hard he was; but since he couldn't make conscious choices, his body rather got away from him, shifting closer and chasing the contact with the warm body in his arms.

He woke gently, the dream slowly sliding into reality, with his nose buried in Tony's hair and his cock, hard and leaking, between Tony's buttocks, sliding in against the cleft with every unbidden thrust of Loki's hips. He stopped immediately, but mainly to stretch his muscles and then plaster himself to Tony's contour even further, nuzzling the back of his neck.

The arm around Tony's waist stroked circles into his belly as he snuggled Tony sleepily, intent on ignoring his obnoxiously erect manhood and instead revel in the almost-platonic contact. And then his hand brushed against what could only be Tony's equally hard member, making him gasp, and Loki smiled into the knob protruding from where Tony's neck became his back.

"Would you be amenable," he asked, voice slurred with sleep, "to having sex right now?" His hand had curled around Tony's dick without conscious thought, and he stroked it slowly, playing with the foreskin and bringing it to full hardness.

"Y–ygh..." Tony laughed, feeling Loki's dick pressing against him. Oh, he wanted more, huh? The billionaire had to chuckle and bite his own lip, instigating more contact by wiggling his hips. That was when his fingers stroked accidentally over his own cock, making him shiver in the god's arms. "Haha, are you always this formal about it?" Tony teased, curling his foot over the length of one of Loki's legs and pulling him closer, feeling Loki's hardened rod press up against him. He had to stifle a small moan, already willing and eager even so early; Loki's hand didn't make it any easier to resist.

Not that he would. Ever.

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

Loki held Tony, listening to him calm his breathing, and grinned against Tony's hair. "How does a shower sound?" he asked, stroking Tony's stomach with his cum-stained hand.

"Th–that... that sounds good," the billionaire panted, feeling like he was trying to suck every ounce of oxygen out of the room as he shuddered. Oh, yes, waiting for Loki to jerk him to orgasm had been well worth the wait (even if the god was frustratingly prone to teasing).

Eventually his breathing became more placid, Tony's grip becoming lax as he melted into the god's arms. He wanted to stay like this for a long time, just molded into the god's form. He figured if the Chitauri or Thanos or whoever the fuck came down from the sky and _somehow_ broke through everything he worked hard to build (and it wasn't fucking likely), Tony was sure he wanted to be here like this. Wrapped in the arms of the deity. It just felt like it made _sense._

Damn. Was that too mushy?

Tony chastised himself and hitched a breath. "Right. Showering." The man shifted to sit up, wincing a little at the mild discomfort that threatened to blossom into pain should he try to get up and walk too fast.

He huffed, not used to relying on others though, and like the stubborn man he was, using Loki's hip as a crutch while his legs slipped around and over the edge of the bed. It was only now that he could really feel just how full he was round the back end, could see his own come-slicked stomach as beads of white milk trickled down towards his groin. "Jeez, you're messy," he laughed, blaming it all on Loki.

Loki laughed, slapping him in the bum and making some of his cum dribble out and start dripping down Tony's thigh. "Yes, it is a curse," he said very seriously, before cracking a smile. He stretched with a quiet groan and get off the bed, feeling very refreshed and light-hearted. "Do I need to carry you into the washing room?" he asked, joking. He didn't wait for an answer, grabbing Tony under his knees and behind his shoulders, picking him up and carrying him as if he were a damsel in distress.

When Tony was scooped up, he immediately began to half-heartedly fight and punish the god for picking him up like a woman, batting at his face playfully.

Loki ignored Tony's playful slaps at his head and returnedthem with stolen kisses to his face, laughing all the while.

Secretly, Tony was thankful though. The walk would've probably been a pain in the ass _literally_, even if he probably wouldn't admit to being thankful. Tony's cheeks were a bright red coloration from embarrassment as he clung to Loki, his arms wrapped around his neck as if he suspected Loki might suddenly feel cruel and drop him.

This wasn't the case though, and when they entered the bathroom, Tony let himself sigh and nudge his face into the crook of the pale god's neck again, licking sweat and pallid flesh. Tony almost wished he was still hard; he wouldn't mind another round. Honestly, he could do this forever, really, if it was with Loki.

Jarvis was both a saint and near-prescient, so the shower was already on and the water warm when Loki stepped in, still carrying Tony with nearly no effort at all except to manoeuvre him through the narrow opening of the glass door. The spray of water immediately started washing off their combined sweat and the cum on Tony's chest, sticking their hair to the head. Loki had both hands occupied, and he couldn't take the wet hair from in front of his eyes until he put Tony down.

The warm water washing over his form was a godsend, Tony moaning gently into the spray while their collective mess was rinsed away. Seeing Loki's hair in his face, one calloused hand moved to brush it away (he was really enjoying the way Loki's locks could look so tame and then so wild when he wanted it to be).

"Do you want me to bathe you, or do you feel capable of doing it on your own?" Loki asked, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and pouring out a dollop onto a hand. It wouldn't be a chore, washing Tony's hair and soaping up his body, but he left the choice up to Tony.

Tony could only laugh, "I've got it, thanks," he smirked, taking the bottle and pouring himself a bit of shampoo. Before he lifted it to his hair, however, a small wayward thought crossed his mind, all before he turned and slathered it into the god's hair instead. "Actually, better idea. We can wash each other." There was a glint in his eye as his fingers massaged concentric circles into the god's scalp, foamy white mixing with the darkness of Loki's hair.

"Better idea indeed." Loki smiled at him with his head bowed, giving Tony more access, and started massaging a lather into Tony's short but thick hair. He tried to copy the pressure and pace of Tony's hands, assuming that would be how he prefered it, but soon he forgot himself and the massage turned into a caress, his fingers carding through Tony's foamy hair and stroking his scalp like a petting.

A touch of Tony's hands to his chest brought him out of his trance and he dropped his hands, rinsing them in the spray. He grabbed the soap and worked up a lather before passing it to Tony and sticking his hands under Tony's hairy armpits, pressing the soap into the skin but also attempting to tickle him.

Tony giggled at the tickling — my God, the _tickling_ — toes curling as he batted the god away with a soapy hand. Washing Loki was turning up to be a surprising blast, Tony finding himself snorting or smirking every second they were at it. His hands were moving chastely at first, massaging and working his fingers with an ease that came from working with the intricacies of machinery all his life.

Then he chuckled, catching Loki's bottom lip with his teeth and sucking on it briefly — he tasted a little like soap, moist with the warm water running over them — and pointed out, "You, Dear Dictator, have _no fucking hair_. How do you even manage that?" he said, animatedly lifting one of Loki's arms to find no pit hair, then the other only to yield the same result, looking over the god's marble-esque body as if on a search for long lost body fuzz. No such luck.

He kissed and bit at said captive arm, nipping playfully at the sensitive areas in the dip of his elbow before looking to his god, eyebrows curling up.

Laughing and winking mysteriously, Loki slid his hands under Tony's arms and stared soapily stroking his back, pulling him flush against Loki. His semi rubbed against Tony's lower belly, poking it, and the nearness felt divine. Loki hummed, content, and dipped his head to kiss Tony, one hand traveling up to cup the back of his neck and the other going southward, stroking the dip in Tony's spine. A couple fingers dipped into the cleft at the base, fitting snugly between the buttocks, before he gave into his desires and lowered both hand to Tony's amazing bum and squeezed a two handfuls of it, reveling in the firmness.

Tony mumbled happily into the touching and the kisses, letting his own palms smooth over broad, slender shoulders that were wonderfully different than he was used to. No matter what mildly feminine qualities Loki might have, he was a _man_ and Tony could feel that with every stroke, every press of his fingers against the blade of a shoulder, every ridge of his spine, every time he returned the grip at his ass with his own squeeze at Loki's.

"And you, my dear, have a magnificent behind, did you know?" Loki asked, moving his head back slightly so Tony could look into his dancing eyes. "And it seems to be distressingly soiled." He grinned and licked the tip of Tony's nose, immediately regretting it because it tasted of shampoo. "As I recall that I am to blame, I suppose I should offer reparations. Licking it clean should suffice," he suggested, his voice so low and dirty the water almost drowned it, one finger circling Tony's well-used entrance.

The fingers at his ass had Tony gasping once, pressing instinctively flush against the one holding him. His deep brown eyes had shut, only to flutter open again, lashes dotted with beads of moisture. "God, did anyone ever tell you that you are _amazingly_ kinky? If you keep this up, I'm just going to want to fuck you and those plans are never going to get made, and then where would we be?" he smirked, not really helping his case though as he took this chance to start lather soap over the other's half-hard erection. "But that wasn't me saying _no_ either."

Loki narrowed his eyes and purred like a cat being stroked just right. "You are correct, sadly," he said, trailing a finger under Tony's jaw. He bit his lip, thinking it over, and then pulled Tony flush against him, grinning maniacally. "We shall make haste, then," he purred playfully, and the soap flew to his hand. He lathered up Tony's entire chest and back, and then, with a wink, knelt by him and washed up his legs with both hands.

The coarse body hair all over Tony caused in him great envy; as Tony had pointed out, he had never had body hair, not even the downy, light kind that all Aesir have as children. He had grown accustomed to the feeling of his smooth skin, but sure had mourned the mark of masculinity. Of course, he had shape-shifted to have hair, but it just the once; after that, catching little hairs on his clothes and boots and armour, and having to trim the few whiskers that cropped up on his face, had become too much a hassle and he had returned to his natural state.

But Tony's body was thickly populated by it, growing all over his tanned skin. His legs and arms were hairy, but not to the point that one could call him hirsute, and the hair around the base of his cock was neat, growing up to his belly button. He had no hair on his chest, but he probably shaved it because of the reactor. Loki ran his hands through the hair with a tiny smile, and resumed his task of cleaning Tony between the legs, pausing to touch and nuzzle the bruises he had left there the night before. When he was done, he prodded playfully at his entrance — which looked red and irritated, so he let it be — and rolled his balls and soft cock in his soapy hands, remembering to wash under the foreskin.

It was a new experience to fuck with someone with just about as much ego and charm as he himself had, Tony watching reverently as Loki slipped down to treat him in a hasty manner. Soft moans escaped him as he watched the god's elegant ministrations (and Tony was quickly falling in love with those spellcasting hands). "Mmmm, I love your hands," he murmured, closing his eyes to the wonderful sensations as they pressed over his genitals gently.

"Thank you." Loki gave the side of Tony's cock a parting kiss and stood up away from the spray. The water had mostly washed away the shampoo, so he grabbed conditioner and put some on, not trusting Tony to know how much to use, and piled it into a messy bun to leave it in. After that, he turned back towards Tony and winked, standing still and raising his arms, perfectly poised. "Your turn to do me, I believe," he invited with a twinkle in his eye that meant was aware of both meanings of the phrase he had just uttered.

Tony eagerly took the soap and leaned in, pressing a wet kiss to Loki's mouth and tweaking his nipples with a "You got it, Babe."

He kissed a trail downwards, letting his damp beard brush over taut, milky skin. It was all so natural all of a sudden, just to do this, to be this affectionate towards Loki now.

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

The way Tony gently held him through the afterglow warmed Loki like few things in his life could, and he relished in the strong, muscular, _hairy_ arms holding him so securely. He wasn't a blushing maiden by any means, and though his muscles were more lean than bulging he was as strong as any Asgardian, but there was nothing wrong with appreciating the inherent masculinity of a lover, especially one as lovely as Tony.

"Damn..." Tony said finally, resting his wet cheek against Loki's shoulder, breathing through his mouth. "Are... Are all of your orgasms this amazing?" he chuckled softly, watching the golden light fade from the god's come. As an afterthought, Tony leaned (never moving far enough to separate himself from Loki) and reached out, dragging a finger through the mess before it washed away, quickly bring it to his lips and tasting.

It was salty, bitter, but not without a sweet aftertaste that reminded him of something he couldn't recall at the moment. He made sure the god could see it, slipping his finger from his lips with a wet _pop_, smirking at Loki over his shoulder.

Loki wrinkled his nose when Tony tasted his spend. It must have been cool by then, and the pleasant tingle his magic imbued it with must have already faded, and it was extra charming that Tony wanted to taste it all the same. He twisted back, careful not to jostle Tony's softening cock, and licked the tip of his tongue across Tony's lips teasingly, smiling mischievously at him.

"If you are referring to the flares of magic," he replied, undoing the messy bun his hair was in so the spray of hot water could wash away the conditioner, "then a bit of yes and no." He shook his hair out, the angle making it difficult to rinse it, and was startled to find Tony helping him, his clever fingers rubbing the creamy substance off gently. He smiled, turning his head so the back of his head was facing Tony. "They always happen, you see," he continued, voice soft, "when I lose track of my magic. Usually when I achieve orgasm, but also when I am deliriously sick." Which thankfully didn't happen often. "I had been celibate for close to one Asgardian year, before last night, and I am newly getting used to the loss of control. That is why the flare is not as strong as the first time."

If they continued they arrangement, soon it would be nothing more than a barely-there golden glow in his eyes, and, well, the ubiquitous golden seed.

Tony listened as Loki explained the explosive 'orgasm magic', working his fingers against Loki's scalp lovingly, pressing kisses against an exposed shoulder. He could get sick? Huh. Tony frowned. "Huh. Wow. What constitutes 'an Asgardian year'?" he blinked, barely remembering anything beyond the amazing fuck they'd had last night. He did vaguely recall Loki mentioning he was older than the damn Ice Age, or something close to that.

Feeling his legs would not fail him if he stood, Loki slowly pulled himself up and incorporated himself unsteadily, standing under the spray to wash of the newly-acquired sweat. He took a hand to his behind and cleaned out his rectum with magic, not wanting to have Tony's spend leaking out during important meetings where everyone could see. Then he offered Tony a hand up.

With a grunt, Tony accepted, almost staggering and falling over before catching himself against Loki's chest, Loki reflexively drawing him into a sedate embrace and resting his chin on Tony's head. Whoo. He was going to have to sit for awhile before he even _attempted_ to try and get into an Iron Man suit. Fuck. Maybe he could work on those—oh, fuck! Those plans he was supposed to have ready for Bruce by this morning so he could do his thing. Double fuck.

Well there wasn't anything he could do right now about it, so he breathed deeply and let himself rinse off the new sheen of sweat. He couldn't see it, but he was loving picturing the way his seed slipped out of Loki. It was a reminder of just how much Loki was his now, at least in him small part. Smiling smugly, Tony stole a kiss.

It got him thinking, though. Honestly? He didn't know where this put them. What were they now? Were they 'friends with benefits'? 'Something more'? The bachelor couldn't think of honestly settling down with _the_ God of Chaos and Lies, Brother of Thor, Dictator of Earth and Lover with Explosive-Firework-Orgasms. And yet it wasn't a one night stand either, that much was made clear this morning.

Tony sighed. He hated his mind when it ran so rampantly, especially when all he wanted to do was sit here and enjoy the embrace. He carded a hand through Loki's damp hair plastered over his face and kissed him chastely on the cheek. Rather than bring up the unruly thoughts in his mind, he shifted and said, "You know. I liked your hair up too, it was nice," with a smile. "Now c'mon. We should probably go see if Bruce needs help with breakfast." Because he was more than likely up by now. "Do you think he heard us? Do you think we _woke_ him?" he laughed, mock-horrified.

Loki chuckled, leaning down to peck Tony's lovely mouth, then gave him a frankly salacious smirk. "I shall endeavour to wear my hair up more often when in your presence, if it pleases you so, if you agree not to shave before meeting me," he winked.

"If I don't shave...?" Tony petered off, confused by the request. "Wait, don't shave my beard or...?" Tony laughed lightly. Did Loki have a thing for hair or something?

But Loki continued talking. "As for Banner, worry not about him. For all intents and purposes, he gave me permission to court you last night," he murmured, lifting his hands to Tony's face. The rough patch of newly-grown beard along his cheeks and jaw was still prickly and it looked sloppy, despite having felt so good against Loki's skin, so Loki brushed the pad of his thumb over the stubble, shaving it. Once he was satisfied Tony's face was up to his usual standards of grooming, he let Tony go, only to walk to the glass wall and slide the door open.

"He... He what?" Tony blinked in surprise. "Oh, my God, that enabler." He huffed, making a face while Loki looked over him, running a thumb over his face. Strangely, Tony had the weirdest feeling like he'd just taken a razor to the morning scruff he usually took the time to shave. He reached up to touch his jaw, realizing it was a half truth. It felt like he'd definitely lost some hair there. "Whoa, nifty," he murmured to himself.

Loki paused briefly in the the middle of exiting the stall to grin over his shoulder at Tony, and walked out to the towel rack. He tossed a fresh towel at Tony, grabbing none for himself. As a wizard, Loki wouldn't need one. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and exhaled sharply with a soft, "Ha!" All the water coating his skin and hair turned to steam at once, billowing from his body in plumes.

"You gotta teach me how to do that," Tony murmured, gaping slightly. While magic was probably the most frustrating thing next to Loki himself, it was also fascinating; the water left Loki's body obediently and it was just _awesome._

Butt naked, Loki walked over to the toilet and took a leak, completely unashamed despite feeling very much observed. He was sure he must be a sight anyway, covered in bruises all over his neck, just as Tony, who looked like he had been on the losing side of a sparring session.

Tony watched unabashedly as Loki relieved himself, eyes snaking over his delicious form while Loki stretched with the thought of '_Wow. I just fucked that,'_ running through his mind.

Loki shook off the last drops, stretched again, and caught Tony looking at him, so he stuck out his tongue at him. Then he grinned mischievously and teleported out of the bathroom.

"Hey! That's cheating!" Tony called out to the empty washroom and grunted, snatching the monogrammed towel and drying himself the old fashioned way.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 27th of June**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_One of the military liaisons, a thin-looking man of colored skin, approached Loki almost nervously at the coffee machine, and asked him without preamble, "Are you raping Tony Stark to ensure he cooperates with you?"_

_Loki's eyebrows almost met his hairline. "Not at all," he answered, surprised at the unexpected protectiveness in this man's voice, despite his glowing blue eyes. He pointed to his neck and asked, "Does this look like the work of an unwilling man?"_

_To his surprise, the man chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Of course Tony would get it on with the damn dictator." He laughed and offered Loki his hand, the blue all but fading from his eyes. That had never happened before; Loki had no idea what it meant. "Colonel James Rhodes. I'm a friend of Tony's."_

* * *

**End notes:**

Yes, we know, censorship sucks... On the other hand... RHODEY!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	13. Out

**Chapter Title: **Out

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony shows the world he is out and about by having a press conference. Loki shares the good news with the UN. People notice their hickies and _suspect._

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Tony had been wrong in one aspect: Bruce didn't need help with the breakfast, unless one counted eating it as help, because it was already done. Even the table was set, by the time Loki emerged from his room, dressed.

Loki grinned, taking a seat and waving hello to Banner when he came over from the kitchen, carrying a plate of scrambled eggs and a second one of toast.

"Impressive hickies you have there," Bruce told him as all greeting, setting the plates down on the table.

Loki grinned childishly and touched them, knowing they were very visible. "Are they not just? Tony put them there, and you know he never performs any poorer than impressive at the very least." He took the carafe and serve himself and Bruce some coffee.

Bruce let him, instead serving him some eggs in return. "I take it you won't be dancing around each other any more," he said, smiling softly, and put sugar in his coffee. "That is good to know, although I confess I found it adorable."

Loki agreed with the sentiment. "Tony says he is sorry if he woke you." As for Loki, he couldn't care less. Sex was a natural part of life, why apologise for it?

"Putting words in my mouth, huh?" Tony huffed, joining them. He was dressed simply, a black wifebeater through which the arc reactor glimmered brilliantly, and jeans, one hole torn at the knee on the left leg. Work clothes, rather than being dressed to impress. Though, as he walked, the man did look groomed, hair slicked back in a semblance of being tamed (at least as far as Stark's hair _could_ be tamed). He seemed to be wearing a bit of Ambre Topkapi on him too, a scented aroma he usually wore on his good days.

There seemed to be a pep in his step (even if, okay, he was limping a little), but Tony hid it proudly for the most part.

"Okay, yeah but I am uh. Sorry, Bruce," Tony smiled sheepishly, joining them in the dining room and looking over the breakfast accumulated on the table. "Damn. You really outdid yourself, buddy. Seriously, thanks," he chuckled, stealing a piece of toast for himself and shoving it in his mouth.

"Oh! Mhm hmmffy fmm hmmm..." Tony paused, removing the bread from his mouth. "Right. Doubly sorry for not getting those plans to you this morning. I'm working on it, promise. ASAP," he winked, replacing the toast between his teeth and procuring one of his devices from his backpocket, plucking through the pad busily. He walked around the table to his seat, making sure to nudge the god playfully with his hip before plopping his ass down for breakfast.

Loki got his revenge by slapping him in the shin with his foot, his face not even changing while he ate. Then he summoned his tablet to read this day's news and was for all intents and purposes dead to the world, eating mechanically and not hearing a word of whatever conversation Tony and Bruce might be having.

Tony chuckled to himself, taking a moment of his time to bring up his long-neglected Twitter (last activity posted three months ago stating 'Brb. Saving the world, guys. T. Stark'). Fingers flicking fast over the screen, he made a quick post about having the most amazing round of explosive sex (secret pun intended). Of course, he failed to mention with whom since he wasn't sure the world was ready for that yet, and well, with the Avengers needing to be won over, he would have to play it safe for now.

As an afterthought, he made another post: 'Oh, yeah. By the way, I'm back guys. ;)'

There, done and done.

With a satisfied sigh, he took up his plate and a fork, nabbing scrambled eggs and more toast, opting to make a loose sandwich out of the two. "So uh. My plan," he looked to Bruce, seeing as Loki was off in his own world, "today is to finish up what I was supposed to give you last night and then have you sit tight and work on that. I'm gonna have to leave you to go see if I can't at least worm my way into a hello with Fury and Steve. Pretty sure they'll be happy to know we're alive, but I can't risk your safety and others by bringing you along."

Bruce nodded. They both understood that.

"Besides, I really miss flying. I'm probably hella rusty," he laughed. And really, he did. He missed the freedom of the skies, of soaring high above the world and its problems. When he wasn't out saving the world from some bad guy or another, he was out in his suit, enjoying the view. Maybe even having donuts or a croissant in some faraway place for a few hours (and he could thank supersonic flight for that.)

Across the table, Loki was engrossed in the newsclips Jarvis had prepared for him. China had finally folded under the pressure, and so had Russia. Japanese factory workers were staying overtime to produce the parts for Loki's guns — they were tiny people, but their work ethic was fierce — and people had started working on building nuclear fallout shelters in case aliens did manage to invade Earth and they had to use their last resort.

On the other hand, the Catholic church was advocating that their parishioners pray a lot for the upcoming Apocalypse — which Loki understood to be on par with Ragnarok — and stop following a sinner who claimed to be a god, because apparently Loki was a devil and would lead them all to Hell. Loki scowled and tilted his head at that, not understanding a thing.

Apparently, there had been a tiny outbreak of smallpox that had killed exactly one person and infected four more, in Paris, before it was contained. Loki rolled his eyes. Mortals died of disease every day, why should one in particular make the international news?

And on yet another unimportant tangent, but one which Jarvis thought apparently relevant the picture of Loki sleeping had reached over fifteen million 'notes' and been 'reposted' on every other social media. It had also re-awakened speculation on Stark's whereabouts and life status, since it had been published on his 'blog', and Stark Industries accions had soared, returning to the place they had been before Tony was presumed dead.

People were apparently very interested in seeing Tony in person, according to a petition on a website called , which had already over a million signatories. He had no idea how the number of people certifiably wanting something was supposed to make it happen, but then again he should maybe show them Tony to get them further onto his side.

Whatever he was chewing suddenly turned a lot harder in his mouth. He resurfaced to the real world and discovered he had bitten of the head of his spoon and he was currently chewing that — no wonder it was so crunchy. With all the poise and decorum of a second prince of Asgard, he spat the formless ball of mutilated metal into a napkin He looked around discreetly to check if the mortals had noticed.

Tony's eyes were wide as he _stared,_ before he coughed and looked away, seeing that the god had indeed totalled once of his nice, _expensive_ pieces of silverware. Not that the price bothered him or anything. "Yeah... Remind me never to let me put my dick in your mouth," Tony mumbled, before stopping himself when his friend choked and sputtered on his breakfast. "Whoops. Ah... Sorry, Bruce," he grimaced sheepishly again at his friend, patting his back, "TMI?"

Bruce coughed a couple times, before waving Tony's hand away. "Yeah, Tony, _TMI_," he said, shaking his head in exasperation, but grinning.

Loki watched the exchange with a bemused smile, before checking his watch. Surprisingly, he was still early. His body must have woken early, unaccustomed to sharing a bed. '_Good call, body_,' he cheered, tossing the now useless spoon at a snickering Tony's face and speared a sausage from Tony's plate with his fork. "Very well. Apparently people are petitioning me to let you have a press conference," he said, his face showing exactly what he thought on that, and started eating his sausage.

Tony turned to the god (his lover...?) and set his tablet down to signal he was paying attention. "Oh! Right, press conference. I gotta do that too," he grunted, still not keen on the press. '_A hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do'_, he mused comically to himself. "Should I do that before or after I go tango with the Dream Team?" He picked up his sandwich in both hands and took a bite out of it.

Loki turned his eyes on him, sneering slightly, and playfully slapped him on the arm. "Think about it, mortal. I am certain that somewhere in your puny brain lies the answer," he deadpanned, obviously good-naturedly but still looking at Tony as though he had just said something very stupid. When Tony simply blinked at him, he rolled his eyes and motioned to Banner. "Bruce. Tell Tony what he should do," he said, holding his head in one hand, pretending he didn't know Tony.

Bruce smiled weakly, still drying the coffee from his shirt, and adjusted his glasses. "Erm, I think he means, though I'm not sure," he said shyly, "that Fury might not let you go after you talk to him, so doing the press conference beforehand might be a better choice." He checked back with Loki, though his eyes zeroed in on the huge purple bruise on his neck, and he couldn't help but think Tony's mouth sure had some suction power.

"And there you have it," Loki said, feeling vindicated, and shook his head at Tony sadly. "Forgive me, Dear. I knew you humans have the expression 'fuck someone silly', but I had no idea it could be literal." He was cracking up at the end, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Ugh, rude," Tony huffed playfully, smacking the god lightly on the arm. Loki's laughter was contagious though, and he was pretty he'd never seen the god so open and well... _human_ (well, aside from the sex). "_Thank you_, Bruce," the billionaire chimed, turning all of his affection to the scientist instead. "I will do the conference first then." He stuck a tongue out at Loki.

Loki looked at his watch again and his mouth turned into a moue of disappointment. "I have to leave," he muttered mournfully, standing up and getting his briefcase. "Goodbye, Tony," he added, leaning down to kiss his forehead as he passed him to grab his jacket. "Do not forget to telephone Miss. Potts. Have Jarvis contact me if you need anything." Loki rested his hand on Tony's shoulder, thumb stroking a hickie on Tony's neck affectionately.

Tony frowned. Oh, right, Loki had a whole world to run first. He closed his eyes and accepted the gentle kiss to the forehead and the touch. "B–Bye..." The gentleness of the kiss caught him off-guard. "Will do."

With one last wink, Loki teleported out and into his office.

Aw, now Tony was actually going to _miss_ that fucking dictator. With Loki all gone now, Tony settled for his sandwich again.

Bruce put down his toast to tease Tony. "That bruise you left on his neck is gonna be the talk of the office, you know?" he laughed, poking Tony on the shoulder and dodging when he tried to bat his hand away.

The genius quirked a brow at Bruce and laughed. "Yeah, that was the point. I want to see if it makes the news!" he cackled maniacally before.

Then Bruce, the _asshole,_ began singing, "Tony and Loki, sitting in a—

"Heeey!" Tony batted at the scientist's shoulder and flicked him on the nose. "Ass!"

"—tree, K-I—! _Ouch!_" Bruce rubbed his face. "Okay, no more teasing, got it."

Tony laughed, taking a bite of his breakfast _finally_ and did his best not to flush when he swallowed. "And for the record," he poked a finger into Bruce's shoulder, "if we were gonna do it in a tree, we'd have to be in Central Park for that," he waggled a brow.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Ladies and gentlemen, looks like Tony Stark was back.

* * *

No sooner had Loki arrived in the office that his main secretary was taking his briefcase and jacket from him and ushering him into the conference room, where his team was waiting, assembled and ready for action.

One of the women stopped cold when she saw him enter, her eyes fixed upon his neck. Loki privately commended her for being observant and, winking, placed a finger on his lips in the quaint gesture for requesting silence that humans used. She looked at him shrewdly but mimed zipping her lips shut, before gesturing to the screen placed where everyone in the room could see it.

Loki turned his eyes towards it just as the now-familiar logo of the United Nations appeared on the screen. It wasn't a pre-recorded message, which Loki realised when the UN Secretary paused after his greeting, looking at the camera expectantly. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, blushing slightly, returning the greeting.

What followed next was a very interesting conversation, to say the least. Apparently, all the delegates had spoken with their corresponding country leaders and over eighty percent of the countries had agreed to follow his lead without questioning and had already started arranging and distributing their armies. Which reminded Loki that humans _did_ have them, and that their sending of five misfits with impressive powers (and one alien with power over lightning) to fight against him had been a one-time thing.

He hadn't really considered that the mortals could or would want to fight once the enemy had penetrated the primary defense they were all building. He had severely underestimated how stubborn humans could be, apparently. He smirked, and commented, "They should equip tanks and fighting jets with the weapon we are building. Stark should have the new design ready by noon, our time."

That quite astounded them. It appeared the whole UN assembly was watching the feed, for Loki could hear the hushed murmurs over the Secretary's stunned silence.

Then he continued. "Of course, I shall require from you a promise, shall we call it? Stark took a lot of convincing to even consider designing weapons again," he lied, knowing this point was important to Tony. "I need to to sign a document saying explicitly that you will _not_ reverse-engineer them, that you will erase all records of designs and that either or will destroy the Framrherrlae after the war is over or never, ever use them against your fellow man." He was sure Tony could somehow rig them to explode if they were tampered with or used inadequately.

Still, under the table, he texted Tony, '_Is it possible to make it so the Framherelae self-detonate if tampered with or turned upon targets that are not Chitauri? Because I am making a deal with the UN to allow them to mount them on jets, and I trust them not.' _He didn't wait for an answer just yet, knowing the debating process was a slow one, and instead continued tackling other issues.

If the countries with nuclear weapons were willing to lend them to the cause should they need it, but only when Loki commanded it, not before. They said they would consider it, which meant that they would quibble over semantics and ultimately agree.

If the building of nuclear-fallout shelters was going well, or if they needed workers or funding. The poorer countries requested both, and amazingly the delegates sorted it out amongst themselves immediately, offering help to their neighbours in this aspect, almost for free. Loki was frankly amazed — they took so long to deliberate on details when it came to power or losing privileges, but when it came to helping each other they immediately formed a line.

If Stark was really working for Loki of his own will, if he had been the one to take the picture now circulating the internet, etc. Loki told them the man would be making his own announcement later that day, before seeking out the Resistance and attempt to parlay with them. Both the UN delegates and Loki's team around him started whispering furiously.

Loki rolled his eyes and endured the rest of the teleconference, stretching when done. He needed coffee. He got up, ready to get it for himself, when one of the men spotted the bruise in his neck and hollered, "Hey Boss, nice hickie!" Loki shook his head at him, disappointed at his lack of common sense and decorum, and said nothing.

One of the military liaisons, a thin-looking man of colored skin, approached Loki almost nervously at the coffee machine, and asked him without preamble, "Are you raping Tony Stark to ensure he cooperates with you?"

Loki's eyebrows almost met his hairline. "Not at all," he answered, surprised at the unexpected protectiveness in this man's voice, despite his glowing blue eyes. He pointed to his neck and asked, "Does this look like the work of an unwilling man?"

To his surprise, the man chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Of course Tony would get it on with the damn dictator." He laughed and offered Loki his hand, the blue all but fading from his eyes. That had never happened before; Loki had no idea what it meant. "Colonel James Rhodes. I'm a friend of Tony's."

Loki stared at it, surprised, and changed his paper cup to his left hand, grasping the proffered extremity. "Loki," he said unnecessarily, "I am Tony's 'it's complicated,' I believe. Why do you not stay behind today? I will take you to meet him. I am sure he would be delighted to see you, James."

That earned him a blindingly white smile.

* * *

Tony was down in the workshop again but he didn't take too long, inviting Bruce down to share a cup of coffee — his own was spiked — while he finished up everything Bruce needed for the plans. After he tidied up the designs for the Framrherrlae guns, Bruce could get to working on how to distribute them more efficiently. All to the wailing of the Sex Pistol's '_Black Leather'_ in the background, which of course probably set Bruce a little on edge, poor thing.

"Whoa whoa, hold the press," he mumbled to himself, fishing out his phone and tapping his finger against the transparent screen and opening up Loki's message.

He smirked. Loki had just about as much trust issues as he did; it was nice to know maybe the god was thinking about him too. He wrote back:

'_already ahead of you, babe. gonna run all of them through my own remote servers so no one touches them, they're just installing them. programmed not to target any human signatures. if they manage to hack into them (somehow), they're rigged to blow. smallest blast radius ever too.'_

As an afterthought, he added, '_Get any rap for that hickie yet?'_

Tony smiled and set his phone down on the desk as he flicked the designs over to Bruce. "Here you go bud. Okaaaay. Now to call Pepper... Jarv, volume 0." When the room was quiet, Tony rolled his chair over to Bruce and set his feet in his lap like a footrest, leaning back in his chair while he set his phone on his stomach, routing the call to the room's speakers.

Bruce gave him a patient look but set to working even with the small obstruction.

Jarvis announced the call patching through to Pepper's cell.

"Hello? Pepper?" Tony tested, fiddling around with his phone while he waited for her voice.

She almost sounded frantic. "Tony? _Tony?_ Oh, God, we were all so worried! How did you—? Is Loki—?"

"Heeey heeey, Pep. Sorry to worry you. Yeah I'm back though, listen. I'm alright. I need a favor to ask of you—"

"Sure, anything. Oh, God, you _sound _alright," she said, as if she didn't believe his words.

"I need a press conference. Kinda need to wiggle myself back into the world. Pronto, like in an hour. Can you help me?"

The exasperated sound of relief that he heard in her voice was enough to let him know Pepper was going to bend backwards to do anything he needed. It was good to be back.

* * *

Loki returned to his office to deal with the day-to-day stuff he had been procrastinating for the past week, only to find a few unpleasant surprises.

Construction workers were doing some kind of protest that involved not working until they got whatever demands they were asking for, apparently not understanding that is was _critical_ they built the bunkers. Yeah, nevermind them — Loki instructed the Chitauri drones to do it, and decided that the workers would not be paid for their efforts. He was vindictive enough not to want to allow them use of the bunkers, but he knew it would be a poor political move.

One of Loki's secretaries decided to ask him about the hickie, and then proceeded to tell anyone within hearing distance what Loki had told him. The entire office congratulated him good-naturedly on getting laid. Only one of them made the connection to a recent 'twit' on Stark's account about his having sex, and when Loki confirmed it with a roll of his eyes, seeing no harm in it, the man told him that it would basically guarantee him the 'love of the gay demographic' if they went public, and that someone named Sophie owed him fifty bucks.

Colonel Rhodes returned at lunchtime to pester Loki. The would-be ruler of the world had only just received the new and improved plans for the Framrherlae and Banner's proposed surface distribution of them, and Rhodes decided Loki needed his opinion on them while they shared some pizza the man had brought over. Seeing how enthusiastic he was, Loki didn't have the heart to send him away, but steered the conversation away from military tactics and closer to the subject of Tony. Rhodes told him many amusing tales.

Then he received a text from Stark, telling him to turn on the television because he was about to give his press conference. Loki's heart jumped to his throat, and he did as he was bidden, watching the image attentively. Tony was dressed in an impressive suit — Tony was dressed for battle.

And he was wearing his matching hickie proudly for all to see, which Rhodes commented on before Loki shushed him.

* * *

An hour later saw Tony standing at the pedestal in front of hundreds of press men in one of the largest conference rooms in New York. He would've dressed in a business suit but he figured he might as well kill two birds with one stone, donning the operational Mark VII so that he could just fly out of there right after and pursue where he and Jarvis had located a group of the 'resistance'.

Also? The suit was pretty damn iconic, polished as it was.

Pepper stood off to the side, cradling his helmet for him. They'd exchanged heartfelt hellos and hugs — tearful on Pepper's part — and she brought him up to speed on the company, confirming the same thing Loki had told him. When she saw the hickies, he carefully explained them and she took it well enough. They both knew things hadn't worked out between them and she wished the billionaire luck. Even if there was both a worried and almost jealous glint in her eye. But for the most part, she was more than happy to reassume her role at Tony's side; like she had been drowning in a sea and he had scooped her back up onto land.

Cameras flashed, eager and astounded faces peered at Tony, eyes hungry. He saw lenses and boom mics and hell, even the podium held twenty different microphones all shoved in his face. Ah, he remembered all of this.

"Hey, hey. So I'm gonna just jump right into this. Pretty sure you guys remember how awesome my last press conference was, yeah." A roll of laughter, everyone remembering the momentous occasion Tony had come out of the proverbial closet concerning Iron Man.

"So first and foremost, after much speculation, I am indeed standing in front of you guys alive and well. I can say I'm in a perfect and free state of mind – though I could use a drink right about now," another peal of laughter. "And before you ask, no. I'm not gonna be discussing the details of my disappearance at this time. A few unfortunate events occurred that put me out of commission, but I can tell you now, I'm back and I'm ready to kick _ass._" He leaned towards Pepper a little, "I can say that right?"

She smiled and nodded, ever the poised face for the camera.

Tony smirked right back and turned to face the sea of faces again, hundreds of thousands of eyes all watching him. In a way, the limelight thrilled him.

He went on to briefly discuss that Stark Industries would finally be back and in production. "The lovely Miss Pepper Potts here will continue to remain CEO of Stark Industries under my interests, but seriously guys. I love you. You can all stop going on strike now, I promise I won't leave you again." A wink and a kiss for the cameras, Tony flashing his trademark 'peace sign'. It was obvious he wasn't nearly as formal as Loki in his address of the public.

He then covered that he was officially working in association with the government towards the 'safety and protection of Earth and her interests' and that lead to him admitting to working with the current dictator. No mention of their... standing relationship yet, knowing the Avengers or what was left of them might likely be tuning in too. No mention of them either.

As for the actions of Stark Industries' current undertakings, the billionaire informed everyone to 'hold their horses' as far as what security defenses he would offer, Tony figuring Loki would probably be the better man to announce something like that to the public when they were more ready and able. The rest of Stark Industries' more civilian services, however — especially regarding the more clean and efficient sources of energy they provided as well as some of the most prestigious automobiles around — would finally resume and be offered openly to the public once again.

"So thanks again everyone, you've been a great audience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta fly."

No questions would be taken at this time. That, of course, set the whole room into a roiling tempest of voices and protests and waving arms and trampled toes, but the security team did their job to keep them back. He plucked the helmet from Pepper's darling manicured hands and offered her a chaste kiss on the cheek before setting it in pace.

"Go get 'em boss!" she waved, before Tony dashed away and out the back door. A few moments later and everyone looked up through the wide glass atrium to see the red rocket of Iron Man's form bulleting into the sky.

* * *

Loki had to admire the sheer _ease_ Tony had with the masses. He led them around on a leash, using jokes and dramatic pauses and connecting with them on a personal level like Loki had never been able to. Loki had never been good with mobs, which was why he prefered to work from the shadows, manipulating one person at a time. Loki was a chameleon, adapting his posture and rhetoric to each person he talked to for best effect. Nowadays, he was an unapproachable figure on a podium or, more usually, on a screen, always perfectly coiffed and composed, and he hated the distance, though it was necessary to address so many people. But Tony...

Tony was something else entirely.

As Loki had wanted him to, he spoke favourably of him and his actions, gathering more support with one sentence that Loki had managed to in three months until he pleaded his case to the whole world. He liked that. Here Tony had the perfect opportunity to stomp on everything loki had hoped to build — but no, he was _helping._ This man held the key to Loki's destruction, and simply because Loki had managed to endear himself to him, he had thrown it away.

It was that exact moment, when he spoke of Loki with such obvious fondness in his voice, that Loki knew, for sure, Tony would never betray him. He wouldn't work behind Loki's back, he wouldn't undermine him, he wasn't waiting until the best moment to strike to betray Loki. His read started thumping wildly, and he couldn't stop the grin spreading over his face.

Tony then started speaking of Stark Industries and Loki turned off the television, not caring about that bit. Rhodes complained, but Loki could tell he didn't mean it, because he was grinning too and his eyes were very bright.

Then the person in charge of PR ran in, not even noticing the colonel, and told Loki that Stark was back and urging the whole world to obey Loki, that she didn't know how he had managed it but '_Wow, Boss!_', and then she was interrupted by the UN liaison carrying a laptop with a videochat with the UN secretary already in progress.

Loki dismissed everyone and took the call, all smiles and pleasantries, but he couldn't help but worry about Stark's next task: meeting with Fury.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 1st of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"Glad to see you're all better. How was your months-long nap?" Clint called from the cockpit, looking over his shoulder before he closed the bay doors, effectively trapping the armored hero inside. He began steering the plane back to base, seeing as Tony wasn't going to be (too) difficult at the moment._

_Tony scowled for a moment before it was replaced with that same, easy grin. They couldn't possibly know what he'd been through and yet he wasn't inclined to correct the Hawk either. Instead he looked the more feminine of the assassins. "Yeah. It was fun," he sniffed. "Did you do something with your hair, Miss Romanov? Love it."_

* * *

**End notes:**

FINALLY THE PLOT IS MOVING ALONG. Sex vacations are awesome, but they kill the story.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	14. Resistance

**Chapter Title: **Resistance

**Chapter Rating**: T.

**Chapter Length:** 3 k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **violence.

**Chapter Summary:** If Tony really is working for Loki and helping him conquer the rest of the world, Fury thinks, they might as well end that threat now.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

It was fun having the limelight, but nothing beat being back up here. He hit 10,000 feet easily, waiting only then until he decided to kick into supersonic (and Jarvis had already done scans to keep him away from any other air traffic as they came and went). With a crack of sound, he punched through the sky faster than sound, parting wisps of cirrus clouds. Thanks to the specially designed helmet, Tony barely heard the resultant sonic boom, let alone the intense whistling of air rushing around his person.

"Alrighty, Jarvis, let's find my long lost buddies, yeah?" he laughed, Jarvis bringing the maps and proximity locators up into the HUD screens before his face. He played _Jailbreak_ by AC/DC while he was at it, storming through the sky above New York.

"Lock us in buddy, I'm still rusty. My arms are getting tired," Tony admitted after they were over Rochester less than fifteen minutes later. The suit locked his stance in place, essentially keeping him aimed straight, the suit adjusting on its own. Tony loved autopilot.

"Huh. I know he can tap his shoes three times and go anywhere he wants, but what do you think, Jarv? I should probably bring Loki something back, a souvenir. I haven't been to Canada in forever."

* * *

Inside an underwater bunker in Lake Michigan, Nick Fury replayed the feed from Tony Stark's press conference, scowling. He couldn't see any blue in Stark's eyes, but he couldn't discern whether it was because of the camera of because Stark a a motherfucking moron and he had gone over to Loki's side willingly.

"Director," came Hill's voice from behind him. It sounded urgent.

"What is it, Hill?" he barked, still annoyed at having Stark on _Real Power_'s side, because Stark may be a loose cannon, but now he was pointed in _his_ direction.

Hill looked troubled, or at least as troubled as Hill could look, her normally stoic face lined between her brows. "We have detected an incoming unidentified object approaching us, Sir. We believe—"

"It may be Stark, yes," he finished for her, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to ward off the headache. "Get Barton and Romanov on a Quinjet to bring him in."

Hill licked her lips. "Are you authorizing the use of lethal force?"

Fury snarled. "No. Non-lethal only. For now."

* * *

Natasha was in the mess hall, eating the cardboard-tasting pre-packaged meal after a sparring session with some of the agents. She wasn't hurt, though the same couldn't be said of her sparring partners, so she took the mission when it came.

Not having watched Stark's press conference, or indeed not knowing that he was still alive at all, she didn't know what it was she and Clint would be fighting other than it was a threat, so she suited up completely before meeting Clint at the Quinjet. He was already inside.

"What are we up against?" she asked, taking her seat and strapping in.

"You'll never believe it," Clint said, standing and bouncing on the balls of his feet while they waited for lift off. When Natasha joined him, he finally settled down and strapped in as well, his compact bow folded against his leg.

He was looking at Natasha with a serious face, so she didn't think he was joking around.

"Stark." He let it sink in first. "Going in nonlethal. But, holy shit, did you see the press conference? It was like he wasn't just shoved somewhere for three damn months. Still mouthy as ever." He didn't mention the damn hickie but he figured Natasha would see it when she saw it. Wasn't anything Stark wouldn't do. _Who_ he'd gotten the hickie from though, that was the question.

Natasha was struck dumb. "... Stark," she echoed, not sure she was hearing right. She had thought him dead. Even Pepper, whom Natasha had been helping hide from Loki and therefore talked to periodically, had thought him dead. But if Stark was compromised — if Stark was out giving _press conferences_... "Nonlethal, are you sure? If he's working for Loki," and, let's face it, he probably was, "he is going to _end_ us, Quinjet or not."

"Let's uh... let's hope not. Boss's orders." Clint shrugged, as if saying 'it was as good a day to die as any'. Though, it really would suck to die at Stark's hands.

If Lady Luck had ever been inclined to favour Natasha's life, Stark would be escaping. But not giving press conferences first, if that was the case — he was irresponsible, but he wasn't an idiot. The alarms sounded, and she tried to see if it was Iron Man coming closer. "Clint, do you see anything?"

Clint perked automatically as the alarm went off, like a bird on alert. His keen eyes spotted the blip of red quicker than the monitors started pulling up Stark's trajectory towards them. "Yep. He's barreling over to us pretty fast. I sure hope he remembers how to brake," he quipped uneasily.

Iron Man cut the supersonic and saw the familiar Quinjet. His suit was blasting Guns N' Roses by the time he got within hearing distance, disengaging the cruise control and throwing his hands out before him so he didn't barrel straight through the airship.

"Aw, hey! I get a welcoming party? That's pretty sweet of you guys, I missed you too," the mechanically-boosted voice called out as he hovered a good few feet from the Quinjet's window.

Natasha grabbed the mic and turned on the external speakers. "Stark, hand yourself over. Come quietly or we'll be forced to take action," she said, as calmly as she could manage, and opened the bay door so he could come in. She knew Clint would take care of aiming the guns, she wasn't needed in the cockpit. She unbuckled the belt and, grabbing a rifle, walked down to the area near the open entrance, ready to take Stark prisoner.

"What? Not even a hello?" Stark chuckled, remembering just how official-like Natasha loved to be. He saw Clint in the windshield too, waving a hand before skirting around towards the back. "Alright, alright, if you say so," Tony laughed, cutting the volume on his soundtrack before landing, hands down at his sides (rather than up, since they both knew he had repulsors in his palms). "Though, if you ask me to strip, as much as I'd love to, 'Tasha, I'm going to have to regretfully decline," Iron Man said, before reaching up slowly and removing his helmet. He shook his hair out a bit, the unruly dark mess sticking up a bit on once side from the helmet, as he tucked the thin under one arm. "Yeah, I sort of need my suit. Also you have a gun so. Yeah. I'd like to not get shot today if that's alright with you."

"Glad to see you're all better. How was your months-long nap?" Clint called from the cockpit, looking over his shoulder before he closed the bay doors, effectively trapping the armored hero inside. He began steering the plane back to base, seeing as Tony wasn't going to be (too) difficult at the moment.

Tony scowled for a moment before it was replaced with that same, easy grin. They couldn't possibly know what he'd been through and yet he wasn't inclined to correct the Hawk either. Instead he looked the more feminine of the assassins. "Yeah. It was fun," he sniffed. "Did you do something with your hair, Miss Romanov? Love it."

Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes and jabbed the mouth of the rifle into the grooves formed by the connecting plates in the suit's back. This rifle shot bullets of enough caliber to shot down armored helicopters; it could also shoot a thin sheet of metal, no matter if it was gold-titanium alloy. "Do you," she deadpanned, "I shall tell my stylist she has the Tony Stark stamp of approval. She should put that in her CV."

Then she raised the rifle and, swinging it as a baseball bat, hit the side of Stark's head with the handle, knocking him out to Clint's annoyed whine of "Tasha!" She could use the excuse that she had thought he needed some cognitive recalibration, but she was pretty sure no one would complain of having Tony Stark knocked out and therefore shut up.

She handed Clint the rifle, which he took automatically, and told him to get them back to base.

He saluted her. "Yes, Ma'am, he said, rolling his eyes, and returned to the cockpit, grumbling.

Natasha started disassembling the suit with use of the manual releases. Stark was wearing just jeans and a t-shirt underneath, and it was cold here and in the jet, so she got him a blanket. He was still unconscious when they returned to base, so it was easy to carry him to an empty but monitored room to interrogate him later, and then return to move the suit to an undisclosed location with Clint's help.

She didn't like Stark, but it didn't mean she would leave his suit lying around for anyone to find when he was still a potential ally; not even Fury, who had been dying to get his hands on one for ages. Then Clint and her watched the video feed, looking as Stark woke up from his concussion and Fury strode into the room. They didn't say anything, but they both knew Stark was in for a reaming.

* * *

Damn it. Tony should have seen _that_ coming.

The billionaire was blinking away stars as the world slowly returned to him, fuzzy and hazed. It was too bright, Tony squinting. Oh. The usual interrogation set up huh? He laughed groggily. "Well at least she was nice enough not to hit my face. I need my good looks," he chuckled and then regretted it instantly. Ugh, his _head._

Nick Fury entered the small room that was Stark's new holding cell, dragging behind him a chair upon which he sat as Stark moaned into consciousness.

The familiar voice of the Director soon filled the room. "Good afternoon, Stark," he said almost placidly. "Here, have some water." He motioned to the pitcher of water and the plastic glass resting innocently on the floor between them. "No?" he asked when Tony made no motion to get them, purposely ignoring the way his agents had bound Stark's hands behind the chair. "Then tell me, Stark, _what were you thinking, collaborating with an enemy?_" he shouted, face twisting into a snarl.

Tony looked up at the one-eyed man slowly, finding he was bound. The feeling of restraint quickly sent adrenaline shooting through his system, panic barely masked in his eyes. He shivered a little, but he would always blame it on the cold. _No, no, NO. Not again!_ Tony tugged at his bonds secretly, found them securely too tightly. He was going to bruise. And where the hell was his suit!?

And there was no way in hell he was accepting any sort of drink. Last time that happened, it hadn't ended... Wait. He supposed it hadn't been that bad.

The look became a small glare, Tony having to remind himself he was here to make friends. "Yeaaaah. Can we not shout? I sort of have a headache," he snarked with a small grin, wincing. "Do you guys ever watch the news? Also, before you say anything, no, I'm not Loki's bitch. And he's not the enemy. We've got bigger problems, trust me." He paused. "Why else do you think I'm here?"

So Stark was still on Loki's side, despite the hit to the head... Which meant that he was not being controlled by magic, but that he had actually been brainwashed. Maybe that's where he had been all these months, in some sort of sick brainwashing camp.

Disgusting.

But, ah, no. If this was anyone but Stark, Fury might have believed that. But not him. Not Stark, who had survived three months in Afghanistan without caving in to the torture, who instead of giving them what they wanted had engineered his own escape; not Stark, whose spirit, instead of being broken, had been tempered.

How, then, had Loki turned him into one of his minions? _How_? Had Stark had it in him, all along? Had he secretly been wanting to rule the world? Fury didn't think so — Stark could have done it, and he would have been bored in two days. He would never have come up with an elaborate lie of _an alien army coming to destroy them_ (yeah riiiight). But Loki could. Loki could, and had, and he had all the world and even _Stark_ believing that shit.

Nick Fury sighed, rubbed his temple where the cord of his eyepatch was digging into his popped vein, and then stood up and withdrew his gun. "Because an alien has brainwashed you into doing his bidding," he replied at last. He allowed Stark to see him pull back the safety, wide eyed, and shot the cement floor between Stark's legs. "So I cannot allow you to escape and aid him further. He already has many important people dancing to his fife."

He raised the gun again, planning to shoot Stark to incapacitate him at least until they overthrew Loki's little empire, and a black shadow materialised in front of him, pinning the hand with the gun to the wall and grabbing him by the throat.

Fury would recognise those eyes anywhere. (Although the last time he had seen them, they had been blue. What did that mean?)

Loki.

His blood froze in his veins.

* * *

Loki had a round of negotiations with Japan. They wanted to keep the designs, to let their scientists examine the principles behind Aegis and Framrherrlae, and they were willing to pay, even. They were proposing a pretty sweet deal, but Loki was trying to get them to understand that it was Stark's tech, not his own, and if they wanted it, they were asking the wrong person. He hadn't expected _Japan_ to make a fuss about not being able to keep the tech; from what he had learned, the fellows were pretty tame and agreeable.

He had cut off the communication, huffing, and shouted at his secretary to get him some relaxing tea. He was very anxious about Stark and his mission, and the silly mortals making stupid demands didn't help at all.

Banner chose right that moment to send the plans for the recommended distribution of the Framrherrlae. He even explained his reasoning — a dazzling parade of complicated mathematical equations involving probabilities, military tactics and astrophysics that Loki barely understood. He may have, were he more familiar with the the numbers and symbols humans had invented to describe the universe instead of having an intuitive knowledge; he had certainly seen nothing like it before.

Hanging up, he made a mental note of learning it later, after the war. He was sure Banner and Stark would only be too happy to teach him, if only to have someone who could keep up with them when they were 'sciencing'.

The secretary came with an infusion of Linden leaves, which Loki had found to be incredibly soothing, when all at once Colonel Rhodes returned with bagels and he got a text from Jarvis. Immediately, his stomach dropped and he took out his phone to read it.

_'Mr. Stark attempted a peaceful parlay and has been rendered unconscious by Miss Romanov. The suit is being disassembled.' _Jarvis was clever enough to know better than to add '_Please come rescue Mr. Stark,_' but it was implied in the fact that he sent the last known location of the suit — right over the Canadian border, over of Lake Ontario.

Fuming and terrified at once, Loki downed the tea in one gulp, scalding his throat, handed Rhodes the tablet with the plans Banner had made with the vague orders to look it over, opened Google Street View to Toronto, the city closest to the site of the kidnapping and, after taking a good look to situate himself, he teleported there.

He was a beam of quarks held together only by his residual sense of self travelling at the speed of light — he arrived there in scantily more than two milliseconds.

It took him nearly ten minutes to calm down enough to even attempt to find Tony with magic, and he has never been so thankful that someone had ingested some of his magical cum in his entire life. The fat layer of water suppressed the barely-there magical signature, but he found it when it flared suddenly. The contrast startled him out of his concentration, fearing the worst, but he knew where Tony was now, and he teleported there again.

He didn't wait until he was finished forming to aim the gun away from Tony's tied up form, following that up with holding that _ant_, Nicholas Fury, up the wall by his neck. He ought to _kill_ him! "How _dare_ you?" he growled, low and menacing, his whole body suffused with a golden cloak of terrible power, rising off his skin like fire, scorching everything that came in contact with it.. "He is a _peace envoy_, you _snivelling cad,_" he spat, droplets of saliva hitting Fury's face and burning it, the magic in it boiling with Loki's rage.

The man hissed in pain, and Loki's eyes widened, gleeful that he was hurting this wretched worm that has been the bane of his existence for three months. The alien gripped Fury's throat even tighter. "I ought to _annihilate_ you," he hissed, a mad glint in his eyes, "and put an end to your repugnant existence, _lay waste_ to your gang of mangy curs."

He paid no mind to Romanov and Barton appearing in the doorway, not more than he needed to hold them and their voices at bay with a wall of corrosive magic, instead touching Fury's gun, turning it into so much smoke, and pulling his hand back, fingers extended rigidly, as though readying to cleave it right into Fury's skull.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 4th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"But I'm here to tell you all... you're fighting the wrong guys."_

_The room exploded into a cacophony of outraged voices._

_Hill yelled first, "You believe that madman?" looking at Tony like he had grown a second head._

_Natasha helpfully added, "Of course he does, he's fucking him."_

* * *

**End notes:**

So Loki basically goes super sayian when he's angry. Cool. SORRY FOR THE SHORTNESS, IT WAS A PERFECT CLIFFHANGER, COULDN'T WASTE IT!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	15. Benefit of the doubt

**Chapter Title:** Benefit of the doubt

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **multiple characters talking at the same time. Might be confusing.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony's silver tongue is nothing to scoff at, either.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki spared Barton and Romanov just enough mind to hold them and their voices at bay with a wall of corrosive magic, and touched Fury's gun, turning it into so much smoke. Then, smiling with far too many teeth, he pulled his hand back, fingers extended rigidly, as though readying to cleave it right into Fury's skull. He took aim—

"No! _Loki,_ _don't!"_

—and then Tony's voice made him pause. '_Don't_?'

Tony wasn't sure why he had stilled the god, since after all Fury had been about to shoot him, he was pretty sure. At the gunshot from moments before, the billionaire had nearly pissed himself — that would've been embarrassing — and he'd shrunk away reflexively. He hated having guns pointed at him. He'd been about to speak — scream, really — when Loki had stormed in like a raging whirlwind, tearing the Director from his footing so easily. '_Thank god. Literally._'

And yet, despite all that, morals still simply got the best of him.

Tony squinted against the light, unable to shield his eyes since his hands were still bound, and looked at Loki.

Just a few seconds ago, Loki had looked for all the world like the most vengeful god in all of existence, like the shining murals often painted in gold, like effigies made in honor of such powerful and terrifying deities. Now he looked like a child who had just been told he couldn't eat his birthday cake yet.

Tony, on the other hand, felt and looked pretty pitiful. But the fact also remained that A) Loki had found him and, more importantly, B) Loki had _saved _him.

It struck him to the core that the god would care so much as to personally come and well... _save him._ Tony sat, staring at the billowing cape of the god, his lover, his savior, dumbfounded and left in awe. '_Loki could just snap Fury in two, just like that,_' he realized. That was actually an awesome argument so he decided to call attention to it, despite the terrifying powers at work swirling around the room. "So, uh. You should probably take note you're still alive, Fury," Tony croaked out, trying to find his voice amongst the fear and bewilderment that had settled into his bones. "If Loki had wanted you gone months ago, he could've just done this. But he was trying to handle it the right way."

Fury's eye narrowed in a glare, but Loki was blocking his line of sight.

Tony suddenly remembered well the days when he had been completely at the god's mercy and swallowed dryly. He may or may not be wishing he'd taken the offer for water. '_No, don't think about that._' He cleared his throat the best he could and added, "He's trying to save the world, Fury. And he needs you guys. If he didn't, he would've killed you—_us_ all already..."

A sort of understanding shone in Fury's eye.

It was fortunate Tony had found his tongue, because Loki was too upset to even speak. He calmed down with a long, long exhale through his nose, and his hair, which had been whipping about in the golden, violent wind of his anger, settled down again. His armor faded in a flash of golden light as he put Fury down, leaving him clad in the suit he had been wearing before this debacle started.

Fury's knees didn't quite catch him at first, but it was only for half a second. He stood, even on weak legs, glaring at Loki defiantly.

The dictator sent a hard stare at the puny mortal with airs of grandeur, mostly to intimidate him into staying put. Then he raised a hand at the doorway and flicked his wrist slightly, the barrier of light disappearing.

The other two ants, Romanov and the little warrior hawk, came in immediately, crowding around Fury. The hawk was glaring at Loki as if he could shoot fire from his eyes, but the woman, more clever of the two, was glancing speculatively between Loki and Tony, working out the reason why Loki had come to Tony's aid and Tony's words had been enough to make him pause — no doubt aided by the matching hickies they were stupidly wearing out in the open.

It hurt Loki to leave such an obvious weakness exposed — a weakness he hadn't counted on — but he knew Tony wouldn't like it if he killed all three of them to prevent them from using that information, and Tony being disappointed in him weighed more that the weakness being exploited. So he smiled at the woman and waved cheerfully at the hawk, before tending to Tony, undoing his bonds and — since the secret was out already — healing the bump on his head with a brush of his lips. It also served the purpose of giving Tony another, bigger and fresher dose of Loki's magic, which Loki could use to find him again if needed.

Tony closed his eyes against the kiss and accepted the healing eagerly when he realized that was what the kissing was about. He moved his arms, stretching his wrists and elbows, returning bloodflow and feeling to them — the freedom was more than welcome.

"They tied you up," Loki murmured against Tony's head, pained in Tony's behalf, as he helped him stand. He knew Tony could only have relived images of his previous captivity in this position, and he wanted to _hurt_ Fury and his cronies all over again. "I should never have asked you to come."

"No, no. It's alright. Thanks for not, uhm... Deep frying Fury. And I'm fine, really." Mostly. Tony was probably going to have a few ripe nightmares for a while, thanks to the bonds, but, for the most part, his mind was already doing its best to lock the memories away before they resurfaced. He rubbed mournfully at his tender wrists, shaking his head. Well. The secret was out already, so he sort of shuffled over to nudge Loki lightly with his elbow, basking in the companionship.

Barton was leaving, carrying Fury with his arm slung over Barton's shoulders. He would need treatment for the burns in his throat and hand, and his skin would probably feel sunburnt for the first time in the dark-skinned man's life. Loki couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for it, except for the part where now Tony still had to parlay. The spider was staying behind, looking both ominous and smug. She should be glad Loki had a soft spot for her.

Loki rested a hand on Tony's arm and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Do you wish to stay and follow through with the parlay?"

Tony nodded resolutely. "Y–yeah. Yeah I got this, thanks. Uhm... thanks for saving me," he said sheepishly. Tony still wasn't all that great at accepting help. Ever. His face flushed a little as he looked away.

Loki didn't push. Instead, he cast another spell on Tony under the guise of brushing him off. "Very well. Think my name three times in a row," a prayer, in a way, "and I will come to get you out of here."

Tony grinned. He might've graced the god with a kiss but Natasha was still standing there, and as much as he'd love to make a spectacle about it, he had to keep _relatively_ on their good side. Well... as good on their side as he could now that Loki had literally put the fear of _a _god in them.

She was staring at them awfully intensely.

"What?" Tony playfully gave her a 'look' since he was pretty sure the Widow had been the first to figure it out.

"You two are awfully chummy," she said for all answer, implying she knew everything and more.

Loki rolled his eyes. _Mortals._ "You two have fun," he said. Patting Tony on the head one last time, unwilling to let him go just yet, he added, "Remember to call me when you want me to pick you up," and ruffled his hair. Then, without looking at the Black Widow, he twirled in the air and disappeared with a soft _pop_ of displaced air.

Tony couldn't help but huff at the god, really feeling like they were in a damn relationship (a really weird one, at that) when Loki told him to call. Of course, not for those reasons, but still.

"Neat trick," Natasha observed, still watching Stark warily despite his obviously peaceful intentions. What the hell had Loki meant with 'call me'? Did they have some sort of system? Was that how Loki had known to come to Stark's rescue?

Stark was staring expectantly at her, as though the whole knocking-him-out-and-tying-him-down had been perfectly normal

'_Nevermind,_' she thought, '_I can get it out of them later._' "Care for some non-drugged water?" she asked instead, turning around and walking out of the tiny cell — it wasn't like Stark was armed, and she could take him on in a fight any day — without waiting for an answer.

"Water would be awesome. Also not being hit again would be awesome too." Tony followed along behind Natasha as if he hadn't just been taken into custody and almost shot.

She led Tony to what had become Maria Hill's office, wondering if it may not be better for diplomacy to have Fury out of the picture — notoriously sucked at it. Hill was already waiting inside when she walked in, followed by Stark, who sat down in a chair, still rubbing his wrists.

"Barton will join us shortly," Hill said for all greeting, "but we have Rogers on the phone." She pointed to a screen, where Steve's face was blurry from all the security protocols and the pings through proxy servers.

Steve. _Steve_ was on the screen.

"Steve...?"

The fuzzy image shifted, the pixellated fuzz of his brows lifting. "Hill... Is that Tony? You have Tony over there?"

"Hell yeah, I'm here. And lemme tell you, Fury's still awesome with his 'welcomes'," Tony snickered. It was refreshing to hear the Captain's voice. He hadn't gotten along too well with Mr. Goody Two Shoes; there'd been a _lot_ of friction and not the good kind, but still. There was something in being able to see the First Avenger, one that wasn't completely one of Fury's damn lackeys.

"Yeah, sorry if he roughed you up. How did you escape?" Steve automatically assumed.

Tony winced a little, his eyes flickering away from the screen for a moment. "I, uh... I didn't. Steve. I came here to talk with all of you. It took me awhile to get up to speed, even longer to find you guys, but you know me. If you're digital, pretty sure I can find you," Tony said with a bit of pride. "Look, you guys've been doing awesome here, I've heard you've been fighting from the get-go." Vaguely he wondered if they'd bothered to search for him when he had gone missing for the first month. He'd like to think they did. The thought of it had surely given him hope those first few weeks in captivity, that was for sure. "But I'm here to tell you all that you're fighting the wrong person."

The room exploded into a cacophony of outraged voices.

Hill yelled first, "You believe that madman?" looking at Tony like he had grown a second head.

Natasha helpfully added, "Of course he does, he's fucking him."

Hill turned to level a disgusted stare at Tony.

In the screen, Steve looked painfully confused. "How—what? So Loki isn't lying about the aliens?" he asked, trusting Tony implicitly. He looked like if Tony said the grass was purple, he would believe him. Then his brain caught up with what Natasha had just said. "And, you're _f–fonduing _with him?"

This was getting out of control. "Wow, thanks for that, Natasha. Beautifully put," Tony huffed, looking pointedly at the woman before turning to the blonde on the other end of the fuzzy screen."Steve, it's not..." the billionaire couldn't help but feel weird about the soldier's amazing amount of innocence. He couldn't lie about it. "I didn't... That's not _why_ I'm on his side. I'm on _Earth's_ side. Hello!" He flailed slightly, annoyed. "Can we stop thinking I'm some love-sick puppy and look at the real threat here?!"

Clint chose that moment to come in, stuffing his index fingers in his ears to hold back the noise. "What is this noise?"

Hill pointed at Tony, "_He_ is fraternizing with the enemy!" she shouted, at the same time as Natasha deadpanned in her most dangerous voice, "He believes Loki's lies. He's been _brainwashed!_" with an ugly sneer on her normally stoic face.

Clint blinked, taking a moment to push down his instinctive reaction at the mention of Loki. "Hey, cool, man, you scored with a god," he said at last with a tight smile, offering Tony a hand for a high-five, purely because, though he hated Loki with a passion, a god was a god. "Please tell me you topped."

Tony couldn't help but feel like he was drowning in a sea of voices. Though he did return the high-five with a resounding clap. "Can neither confirm nor deny," he told him, before turning to the rest of his audience. "See? Someone knows what I'm talking about," he snorted. "Also? Loki is not the enemy!"

Clint tilted his head, skeptically. "He's not?" he murmured hollowly, looking to Tasha for confirmation, "how can he not be?"

She shook her head in exasperation.

Steve only seemed to grow a little uncomfortable with the topic; he, the Captain of the Resistance, squeamish about Stark and the dictator of the world bumping uglies. Oh, God. He tried to reroute the conversation. _Quickly._ "Why? Why do you think that even remotely, Tony? He's sort of taken over the entire world..."

Stark rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I thought the same thing. Believe me, I'm pretty sure I hated his guts for the whole first day he let me out. Of his own accord."

Steve was the only one paying attention to him; the other three were yelling accusingly, making lots of emphatic hand gestures.

"That's right. He let me out. _Do you guys hear that?!"_ Tony shouted above the cacophony. "He. Let. Me. Out."

"Of course he did, Stark! Use your _head_," Hill barked, slapping her hands on the desk and standing up. "He has you under some _spell_ I just know it."

Clint couldn't decide if he agreed, so he frowned and sat down, pondering. Stark didn't _look_ spelled — in fact, apart from the slight dilation in his pupils from Natasha's generous concussion, he seemed the same as always.

"Do I look like I'm under someone's spell right now?" Tony said as if reading his mind, leaning forward on the desk and pulling down one of his bottom eyelids. Deep brown. No blue.

"I don't think he is," Clint said at last, "but Agent Hill may be right — Stark, he had you _three months_. Torture, indoctrination, can do _things_ to a person."

Natasha looked away, unable to meet anyone's eyes for a moment. "It can." She found Steve looking at her, though, and looked away sharply.

"How did he keep you?" Steve asked, deciding to broach that subject later. "Did he torture you?" He looked sick at the very thought.

"No!" Tony howled. "Seriously guys, you guys are worse than paparazzi! It wasn't... he didn't torture me." He was thinking back, and, in retrospect, it was all mostly neglect. But not torture. The torture had come from his own mind, but he wasn't about to mention that. It was irrelevant. Oh, and they'd love this next bit. "He let me free Bruce too." The room fell suddenly quiet. "And you know where he was this morning? Happily making breakfast, yep. Scrambled eggs and organic toast."

"B–Banner?" Natasha blinked. They had all been sure that had lost the Hulk for good. "Is he working for Loki too?" The glance she exchanged with Clint confirmed he was just as unsettled by that as she was, and it hadn't been _him_ fighting against it. And if he was using Banner for _Banner_ instead of the green behemoth... She hung her head, smiling bitterly. They were well and truly fucked.

Clint laughed bitterly, slowly clapping his hands. "I hate the dude," he said, his eyes watering in frustration and his chin trembling in a hollow feeling of despair, "but I gotta admit he's a _magnificent_ bastard." He blinked, biting his lip to get it to stop trembling, and looked up, stubbornly trying to hold at bay the emotion.

On the screen, Steve looked worried. "And to think I called in to tell you people that he has the whole UN on his side."

Hill's head snapped towards the screen. "What?!"

Rogers nodded. "The EU has decided to stop helping us," he sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly and shaking his head. "That problem seems so little now."

"Ugh, you guys..." Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Everything you're doing now... You don't have to live like this, in secret, in a damned _bunker_. You could help. There really_ is_ a threat coming," because nothing else made sense, "and you can continue doing what you're doing. Only, now you don't have to start a civil war over it. You can kick _space ass _instead. With me, cause, you know. I'm awesome."

There were the worried looks.

Tony chalked them up to Bruce being on Loki's team — rather than, say, worry for his sanity. He shook his head. "And, yeah, c'mon. If Bruce was really in trouble, do you really think the Hulk would let him live with us?" He didn't wait for answer. "Yeah, that's right. Loki and Bruce freaking _cook _together. It's pretty awesome to watch, actually — _I_ suck at it."

They remained perfectly unenthused, but at least no-one was interrupting.

'_Tough adience tonight_.' Tony shrugged, looking around to each person as he spoke. "I don't know how else to prove it to you. Really, if Loki wanted the world fucked up, he would have done so already. You saw how he came in here, just like that?" he looked especially at the two assassins. "He could do so much but he didn't. The world's still pretty much as it was before, just with a bit of a political shift. I know, I know. I hate politics too but, hey, he's doing it for a reason." The billionaire sighed and looked to the screen where he could see Steve's deflated stance. "We can be a team again. Something's coming for us, and really, who's going to feel like asses when you're proven wrong about .02 seconds before we're all disintegrated?" he snorted. Man, he sucked at pep talks even when was trying his best. This was Steve's area of expertise, clearly. "So Fury can wave his gun around and shoot me all he likes, but I'm pretty damn sure I'd die trying to finish off making everything I can to protect our world." Tony cast his gaze down and sighed, closing his eyes. "So what do ya say?"

Hill glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest, a clear '_no_'.

But then Steve said "I'll fly over tomorrow, I still have to settle a few things here, one of mine is in the hospital."

As if a button had been pressed, Barton immediately walked over to Tony's side and slapped him on the back. "Like I'm gonna miss having Loki cook for me, right Tasha?" He still didn't like Loki one bit — but he had hated Coulson at first too, hated being _handled_, and now he missed him like deserts missed rain. And he was professional enough to make a good teammate, even with people he hated. "We can always kill him after, yeah?"

The redhead stared at him like she would never forgive him, but came over nonetheless.

Clint smiled gratefully. He knew what she secretly hated was going into a mission that would make her so vulnerable: she knew Loki had played them all like a finely-tuned orchestra, and even worse, he could actually control their allegiance and thoughts. Clint had described the spell to her — how it felt like normal, how every action was his own — and she had confessed to that being her worst nightmare, losing her sense of self.

"Good. This is good," Tony nodded approvingly, though he saw the uneasy looks still plastered on his teammates faces. He would've gone over to pat Clint and Natasha's backs for support, but thought better of that; last time he tried that with the Widow, he'd had him flipped over and landing hard on his back. So yeah, not doing that. "All I need is for someone to come back with me, just talk to Loki. Make some nice _adult_ decisions around here, _coughFurycough_, and make peace. You don't have to sign a treaty now, you can think about it, but the longer we wait around here, the longer we're giving them a chance to catch up." He pointed to the ceiling, indicating this Thanos guy and the Chitauri goons.

Steve nodded in agreement.

"So just talk to Loki, come see Bruce. I can have Loki take you back here if you want," Tony shrugged. It didn't matter to him. If they felt safer in this moldy bunker somewhere under Lake Ontario (that's where his sensors had indicated the base), then so be it. Tony preferred his cashmere and Egyptian cotton while he was in life-threatening danger, thank you very much. He looked directly to the assassins. "I won't let him hurt you, I promise. Don't piss him off, play nice, and I'm sure we can all get along."

"Fine," Barton grumbled, tapping his fingers on his leg uncomfortably.

Something else suddenly came to Tony, and he got up, sort of hobbling on his feet. If the whole being tied up thing didn't make him sore, having buttsex with a Norse legend surely did. He winced and rested against Hill's desk for a moment (drawing an angry glare towards his person), before mentioning, "Oh, by the way, I'd really like my suit back before we go. Those things aren't cheap, you know."

Steve noticed how weary Tony looked, but didn't say anything. "Give the man his suit back," he said in his captain voice. "Stark, I will find my way to your tower."

Hill narrowed her eyes. "No, I can't allow that. You will _not_ start working for Loki now, not after all we have done to stop him." She glared at the camera.

Steve glared right back. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I _will_ be going," he said evenly.

It was quite a surprise to Clint, who had never thought a goody two-shoes like Rogers would ever dare defy an order from a superior officer.

"It's up to you whether I'll be reporting back or not," Steve finished. And then, frowning, he cut off communication.

Natasha saw Hill biting her tongue to keep from exploding, and hid a smile. As much as she respected the woman, it was rare to see her so unsettled. Rare, and funny, because it was Steve "Perfect Soldier" Rogers of all people who had made her lose her cool. "Come, Stark, I'll take you to your suit. And then I'm coming over."

Clint looked down, clenching his fists. He didn't want to go — didn't _ever_ want to see Loki again, not even in a picture of him in the television — but he still needed Natasha to hold his hand, if only metaphorically, through everything he did. Maybe the only way to get over Loki would be to actually confront him. '_And then Loki will laugh at me for being pathetic and I'll punch him_,' he thought ruefully. He could only hope it would end that well. Worst thing that could happen was Loki not even remembering who he was. Conscious that Tasha was watching him, Clint squared his shoulders and nodded, swallowing all his misgivings. "Yeah, me too," he answered at last. "Wait for me, I need to pack."

Pack his bow and arrows. The journal where he had been writing his nightmares about losing control, losing himself, as the shrink had told him to in the mandatory sessions. It hadn't helped, but he liked having it. It was like a safety blanket — it reminded him it were _dreams._

Throat tight, he excused himself and went to pack, sharing a glance with Tasha to assure her that he'd pack her stuff too. God knew that had been on too many missions together for him not to know what to get.

While Clint was off making their bags, Natasha guided Tony to where she had stashed his suit.

Tony followed the redhead easily, hands shoved in his pockets as they navigated the dank, utilitarian halls of the base. It was a locked room, Natasha accessing it quickly with the punch of a code too quick to catch, and he stepped in to see his beloved suit in pieces.

Secretly, Natasha wanted to tell him she was glad he was okay, after all. But she knew she would only be setting herself up for a pick-up line, for Stark never took anything seriously. So instead, she said briskly, "There is it. I trust you can dress yourself like the big boy you are?"

Tony sighed. Gods, it was such a hassle to put on without Jarvis. He _could_ do it, it was just... a hassle. He turned and thanked Natasha, saying what she could not. "Thanks. I see Fury doesn't have his mitts on it, so I should probably be thanking you personally," he sniffed. "And despite the gun-butt to the head and the lump I probably have from it," Tony said and rubbed his head, "I'm actually glad you guys are alright. I mean it. I was sort of hitching on the idea of you guys winning and staying alive while I was rotting away in my cell."

The spy frowned slightly. Just a line between her eyebrows, but it pulled them up and made her look oddly vulnerable. She drew in a breath, readying to return the sentiment after all.

But Tony cut the conversation before she could and moved away. No use talking about the cell things; at least, not the details, which he was sure was what Natasha had wanted to talk about. Instead, he moved to begin fitting his suit back into place. At least he'd done this enough times to know where everything went, placing the opened parts over each area of his body as the pieces moved to accommodate and wrap around him.

Natasha watched silently, swallowing her words.

Eventually, every bit of cloth and skin was covered by red and gold metal, including the helmet which Tony put on last, the face plate clicking into place obediently. He tapped on it with his knuckles and looked at Natasha as if to say '_Try hitting me on the head_ now.' "Alright, ready to go. You should probably check to make sure Clint packed you clean underwear," Tony laughed mechanically; you could literally _hear_ the wink in his voice.

It was then that said archer found them, two neat suitcases tucked under his arm. Slim and black, SHIELD issue. They were, of course, built with tracking devices in them, but it really wasn't a secret where they were going. "Okay, I'm ready," the Hawk said, looking between the two. "I told Fury too. He's not the happiest of campers but he's not in too much of a position to complain," he shrugged. The Director would be fine, he was just healing from his wounds. "We're supposed to be the liaisons. Now. How do we do this?"

Tony popped the faceplate up. "Easy. Just watch," he winked and said, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" while thinking '_LokiLokiLoki'_, just waiting to see the surprised looks on the two assassins' faces when Loki actually appeared.

* * *

For the last hour or so, Loki had been trying to concentrate on Rhodes' opinion of Banner's plans and managing only at intervals, the comedown from the high of fight-or-flight leaving him restless and tired. He simultaneously dreaded and anticipated Stark's summons, alternately hoping his pet mortal was well enough to fly home, fearing he wasn't well enough to even think of him, hoping the ex-Avengers had acceded to help Loki, and fearing they would still oppose him.

"That guy is a _genius_!" Colonel Rhodes gesticulated wildly, excited like a child that had stolen into the kitchen. "You should see what he did with your guns in Africa, I've never seen anything like it. Look at that!" He whistled low, completely oblivious to Loki's wandering mind. "Playing chess against this dude must be hellish."

Loki smiled and nodded absently. Then he felt it — the tug of prayer, deep in his belly. It had been so long since he last felt it, and only one person knew how to pray for him — and that was only because Loki himself had told him the way.

He stood up abruptly, not sensing any urgency on Tony's side but still anxious and impatient to know the outcome of the envoy. Rhodes shut up immediately, for which Loki was very grateful. "Anthony is calling," he explained, barely resisting the urge to grab his tie from where he had tossed it to earlier, or perhaps straighten his hair, which looked like he had combed his fingers through it repeatedly. Regretfully, he didn't have time to primp before meeting a bunch of mortals. He would just have to endure their knowing of just how much Loki had fretted over Tony. Maybe it would even work in his favour.

Rhodes grinned. "Then what are you waiting for?" He gestured to the door in invitation.

Loki nodded and shut his eyes, concentrating on the tug. Almost instantly, he felt the magic he had left inside Tony and teleported there, appearing behind him and startling his company. He noticed Tony was clad back in the suit of armor. "I see they allowed you to wear your _party dress_ again," he commented with a small smirk. "Your carriage awaits," he added with a flourish, and a portal opened behind him.

Barton was glaring at him, maybe just as wary of Loki as Loki was of him. Hm. They would need a parlay of their own, and Loki would have to offer recompense so they could once again be neutral. Romanov was the same, but the distrust in her eyes was more academic in nature — Barton had real reasons to keep his distance.

It would probably help their bonding not to let them drive themselves insane by seeing the Nothing and the things that inhabited it, if only to keep himself in Tony's good graces. "I ought to warn you, though," Loki said in a bored tone, "to keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and your eyes shut as well." He regaled them with a macabre smile.

Only for Barton to snort, looking unsure if he was allowed to laugh. "Someone's gone native, methinks," he commented, though his voice became smaller as he spoke, ending in a murmur. He was still intimidated — hell, with the display Loki had put on for Fury, who in their right mind wouldn't?

"Do we just cross or do you lead us by the hand?" Romanov asked, eyebrow delicately arched, managing to make that last part sound condescending even though it was a legitimate question.

There was only one answer Loki could give to that, and he was happy for the opportunity to banter. "If you wish for us to hold hands, my dear Widow, you should know I require dinner and a movie beforehand."

Tony chuckled, rolling his eyes. Just how integrated into life on Earth was Loki, really? "Wow. I didn't even have to do the movie part," he added with a laugh because hey, the game was up anyway right? He saw the small look of confusion (or was it mild disgust) on the archer's face but he only laughed.

Loki winked at him. He missed flyting, and this small exchange of petty quips was the closest he could get — sadly, no one around the office or related to it were inclined to give him any. "Shall we, then? We should not dally, Dust is coming through," he said conversationally, gesturing again to the portal.

"Dust? What's that? Like, space dust?" Tony couldn't help but ask, looking at the portal. He'd never actually really seen one, unless the wormhole he had flown a nuke into counted. He had used one, though, just last night, but he'd been naked and clinging to the god with his eyes shut.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess," Clint said noncommittally, ignoring Tony's confusion as he sighed with the resolution of a man about to take a walk to the execution chamber. The archer moved to be closer, not sure how this worked, sort of making sure there was always a body separating him from the god at all times. At least for now, until he could feel more comfortable in his presence (if that was ever even possible).

Loki offered his hand to Tony with a flourish, like a noble lord asking a lady if he may please have a dance, and his mortal took it with a decidedly amused smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Natasha rolled her eyes at their antics, trying not to let the cognitive dissonance of Loki being playful and not cruel at the same time unsettle her too much. She grabbed one of the cases and held on to Stark's gauntleted hand, arching her eyebrow at Clint to get the hell on with the program.

The archer had to decide between taking Loki's hand — no, no, no — or grabbing onto Tasha's wrist. He frowned, hefting his case up a bit, heavy with his bow inside, and didn't even look at Loki before walking over to Tasha's side and grabbing on stubbornly.

It was okay, Loki wasn't looking at him either. He wanted nothing more than to peer at the little warrior hawk and try to work out how his mind worked, that he would chose to aid an enemy, one that had tortured him psychologically, only because it made sense to ally with him. He acted so childish sometimes, and then so mature as to put their enmity on hold to defeat a common enemy — Loki couldn't help the thought, '_That's my warrior hawk,_' that came unbidden, accompanied with a small burst of pride. As if Loki had any claim to Barton or his good traits.

Nevermind.

Loki tugged on Tony's arm, saying, "Remember to keep your eyes closed," before stepping closer to the portal. He didn't need to — he had already seen everything the Nothing Between had to offer, when he had fallen through it.

Tony huffed, obeying. "Argh. You know when you say that, I always want to look? What happens if I look?" he tugged on Loki's arm back before the portal was closed.

"Most terrible things," Loki said mysteriously, smirking though it was lost on Tony, and checked that everyone had closed their eyes properly. "I mean it, no peeking," he added severely, and pulled them through.

It took only two steps to come out on the other side, right into the living room.

'_Man, that was actually pretty cool,_' Tony thought, opening his eyes when he got the OK. Maybe one day he could tempt Loki into letting him run a few tests on him. Tony would be like a kid in a candy store.

Bruce Banner was lounging there, sipping steaming tea, looking away from them.

"Brucey, I'm hoooome," Tony catcalled with a wink, nudging Loki happily.

Bruce turned and almost spilled his tea. "Oh, hey, didn't expect you here," he said, and then did a double-take. His eyes widened as he spotted the rest of the party. "Good grief," he whispered, "Tony did it?" He sounded like he couldn't quite believe it.

Loki winked at him, raising a hand towards the ethereal doorway and making it into a fist. The portal closed soundlessly, and then the alien god licked his lips, a bit nervous at being so suddenly outnumbered in his own territory. He stroked the back of Tony's neck lightly in apology and said, "Well then, I must be going. It has been a pleasure, I shall be back for dinner." He looked Tony in the eyes to check for any sign he wished not to be there. Finding none, he smiled, "Have fun," and winked before disappearing.

There was the familiar pop of displacement of pressure, and Tony dug a finger in his ear at the ringing that followed. He made a quick pouting face at the space the god had only just been occupying, sad that he had to leave. Then again, running the world. He supposed it wouldn't run itself (and it terrified him just how easily he accepted Loki as the supreme dictator of the world; he had to admit though, compared to a few of Earth's _human _dictator's, Loki wasn't even close to the worst).

He turned to the troupe, spreading his arms wide. "So, uh, welcome to Casa Stark. As you can see, we're all pretty well adjusted here, even with a dictator living with us," he said, moving over to clap Bruce on the back. "I can set you guys up in rooms in this floor, unless you really have any preferences." Tony shrugged, waving the assassins over as he walked around. "You guys want a tour or something? Sorry, we're gonna have to kill some time before Loki can come back to chat with you guys."

Bruce sipped his tea, apparently very calm, like always, but internally he was a maelstrom of thoughts. He wasn't used to living with people — not when he couldn't up and leave, not when it wasn't temporary. He wasn't used to unexpected noises in his home, or finding people in his place at the table, or using his favourite mug — when he picked out a place to stay and call his own, the other guy got _territorial_. It was partly the reason he wandered so much. "Uh, actually..." he started, inclining his head meaningfully.

Tony's face fell immediately.

Bruce bit his lip. "You and Loki are pretty loud," he said instead. It was the truth anyway, and might sway the other people.

"S–sorry, bud," Tony said with a quirk of his lip, an apologetic look on his face. "I promise. We'll keep it down." Wait, so... Were they officially a thing now? Damn, it was complicated. But that surely wouldn't be the last time he'd fuck around with Loki, that was for sure, not when he'd had so much fun last time (and really, Loki had had him screaming like a bitch. _That_ was something to brag about on Loki's end.)

Clint shuddered slightly at the thought of sleeping even in the same floor as Loki. "Can I get my own floor?" he asked, figuring, why not? It wasn't like Stark was short on space. Or was he? "Maybe I can share with Tasha," he suggested in a much more subdued voice, pointing feebly at her.

'_He has the right idea_,' Natasha thought. Otherwise, they'd be stepping on each other's toes all the time, and soon they would be at each other's throats. "I second that," she said, purposely taking a small step towards him to show her solidarity. "Rogers can come too." She didn't fancy the idea of Rogers spending his time around Loki and being brainwashed too. Although, to be fair, Tony was starting to make sense. And that scared her more than anything else.

"Uh, sure," Tony blinked at the two, answering easily. "Yeah, I can stick you guys on the floor below us, still has a pretty good view. And, sure, yeah, why not? Rogers can come too," he confirmed. "Wow, am I going to have all the Avengers in the Tower? It's gonna be like the Noah's arc of superheroes all up in here," he cackled before turning to Bruce again. Tony frowned. He had a soft spot for his science bro, the only one out of the Avengers with whom he could speak and actually be understood by. "Actually, Bruce gets first dibs. Do you wanna move? I want you to be comfortable living here, man."

Relieved he wouldn't suddenly be living in a crowd, Bruce shook his head. Then thought again and nodded. "I'll just move to the room furthest from yours," he smiled shyly.

Tony beamed

"We will require a place to train, of course," Romanov continued, her face betraying none of her doubt. "Can you make that happen, Stark?"

"And a place when I can practise shooting arrows," Clint added.

Tony only winked. "Yep, already ahead of you on that. I've got an underground portion of this building complete with a training area and gym. Where else you you think I get these awesome guns?" he flexed his arms, showing off his 'guns'. "Outside? Nope. Also same place I train most of the Iron Man suits when I need to. It's big enough to fly around in, if that says anything. Also? I can train under different conditions; low gravity, harsh weather conditions, increased pressure, zero oxygen, you name it," Tony said proudly.

Though... should he be divulging these things to the assassins? They were allies, sure (or they were once, at least), but they were first and foremost Fury's lap dogs. He'd have to make sure Jarvis kept everything important on lock down. Not from Loki and Bruce, though — the former, he really couldn't stop from moving around anyway, and the latter he trusted implicitly.

Clint was now hoping Stark would play the Q to his 007 and shower him with cool weapons. '_Oh, yeah, that reminds me..._' Loki's space gun thingies. Fury had had them steal some when they blew up the storage warehouse, and they had been cool stuff. Clint hadn't got much practise at shooting them, though. "And do you think I could train with the space gun thingies Loki is making you build?"

"You wanna use one of my guns? Mmmmm..." Tony paused, scratching at his chin and weighing his options. "Yeaaaaaah. I guess. In time. Gonna make sure you guys aren't just here to stab me in the back, you know?" he winked with a laugh. "Maybe I should make you some Chitauri-shaped dummies to shoot at."

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 8th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Hawkeye's outraged squawk when the target moved out of the way of his arrow was made Loki grin, but it was the commentary ("I don't know what the hell Stark did to these things, but I swear they are getting better at dodging!") and the Widow's casual ribbing were so amusing Loki couldn't help but giggle slightly._

_Immediately, both of them froze and turned in unison, grabbing their weapons, their eyes searching for the source. Hawkeye spotted him first, and his angry grimace was the only warning Loki got before he shot him with an arrow._

* * *

**End notes:**

And the Avengers are re-united! Let the games commence!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	16. Truce

**Chapter Title: **Truce

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **violence.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki and Clint reach an understanding

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki drew his last minutes at the office out as much as he could.

He showed Banner's plans to the military people and then, with their enthusiastic approval, submitted them to the UN. Most of the diplomats there had little idea about military tactics, and they said they would consult with their various generals and almirantes if it was a feasible plan to put in motion. As he had discussed with Tony, he sent only the plans of the parts needed to build the Aegis and the Framrherrlae to his friendly factories, which was most of the factories worldwide by now, and gave them instructions to send those parts to the closest Stark International branch for assembly; that way, no one but SI employees would know what the complete design looked like.

Loki said his goodbyes to everyone, which was something he'd never done before, and people looked at him strangely. They didn't know he had — that _Tony_ had — convinced the resistance to make some tentative truce, and therefore couldn't guess the rest of the Avengers were in Stark Tower, which was the reason for his anxiety. He made a note for Jarvis to remind him to make an official announcement of that on the morrow, and sought out the colonel.

"Ready to see Stark?" he asked him. His hands were sweating slightly, and he dried one on his trousers before offering it to Rhodes.

"Hell yeah," the man answered, smiling. He looked quizcally at Loki's offered limb. "What's the hand for?"

'_Always they question me,_' Loki thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "How do you think I come here from New York every morning, Colonel?"

The man blinked and inclined his head sheepishly, but still didn't take Loki's hand.

Loki forced a grin. "Now, now, I promise to leave your virtue intact," he said, his whole demeanor predatory.

Unexpectedly, Rhodes laughed. "You're not half as good at that as Tony," he boasted, finally relenting and taking Loki's hand.

The alien looked at their joined hands briefly, intrigued by the difference in coloration, and then he created a portal. "Close your eyes now, Rhodes," he murmured in a seductive voice, thrilled by the challenge the colonel had so subconsciously given him, "and _come_ with me."

Rhodey would have blushed if he could have. It was very weird to have a man that wasn't Tony coming onto him in jest. "Dude, please don't," he said seriously, embarrassed on Loki's behalf. "Did you mean that, though? About closing my eyes?"

"Unless you fancy seeing the Nothing that lies Between the places in the universe, I suggest you do so, yes," Loki said matter-of-factly, enjoying the way Rhodes's eyes went slightly wide.

Rhodey swallowed. "Okay, let's do this," he breathed, closing his eyes trustingly.

Loki led him through the ether and into Tony's living room, expecting it to be full of people and to have to use the colonel as a meat shield against a slew of arrows.

But no, it was empty. The lights were off.

Frowning, Loki let go of the mortal's hand like a hot stone and concentrated on his hearing. The penthouse _sounded_ empty.

"It is nice to see you again, Colonel Rhodes," Jarvis said.

Loki interrupted before Rhodes would answer. "Where are they, Jarvis?"

"Nice to be back," Rhodey muttered, unimpressed at Loki's rudeness.

Jarvis's sensors either didn't pick that up or he ignored it. "Mr. Banner and Master Stark are in the lab, attempting to find a way to use the Tesseract. Mr. Barton and Miss Romanov are in the training room."

Loki's frown turned into a scowl. Well, this was _unexpected_, to say the least. He had feared Romanov and Barton would turn Tony and Bruce against him, and he had hoped Tony and Bruce would turn them to supporting him. He had assumed they would be either arguing or somehow bonding when he came back. Never, not even for one minute, did he expect the two groups would go on their separate ways. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

That wouldn't do. It wouldn't do _at all_.

Loki would need to speak with Barton and Romanov in person. "Colonel, you may go visit Tony in his lab. I am sure he will be delighted in your company," he said magnanimously, as if all his plans weren't falling apart like a castle of sand before the tide. "I am sure Jarvis will take you, if you do not know the way already. Jarvis," he told the construct, "Do not tell Tony. I want it to be a surprise." That, at least, was one part of the plan that was still standing.

Rhodey looked at him knowingly through narrowed eyes. "Sounds good. Let's go, Jarvis," he said, walking to the elevator. He stopped before getting on it, chewing his tongue thoughtfully. "Good luck, Loki," he added, before shaking his head, not quite believing he had just said that of his own free will, and getting inside the metal box.

"...Thanks," Loki murmured, smiling ruefully, and contemplated the wisdom of his future actions.

Aw, Ymir's balls. Nobody had ever accused Loki of being terribly wise.

Which was why he chose to teleport directly into the training hall, as quiet as possible. He managed to go unnoticed, appearing behind both assassins as they were in the shooting range, Romanov with guns and Barton with arrows. He smirked, and the next time the machine shot a target — which were already programmed by Tony with a measure of intelligence and had more aerial capabilities than just falling — Loki's magic caught hold of it, and he directed it to dodge.

Hawkeye's outraged squawk when the target moved out of the way of his arrow was made Loki grin, but it was the commentary ("I don't know what the hell Stark did to these things, but I swear they are getting better at dodging!") and the Widow's casual ribbing that broke his tenouns hold over his laughter, and he couldn't help but giggle slightly.

Immediately, both mortals froze and turned in unison, raising their weapons, their eyes searching for the source. Hawkeye spotted him first, and his angry grimace was the only warning Loki got before Clint loosed the arrow at him.

Loki sidestepped the shot, yawning theatrically. "Is that all you can do, my little warrior hawk?" he asked with a faux polite interest that only sounded condescending. He wasn't just antagonising him because it was fun, though that was one of the reasons. If he could draw Hawkeye and Black Widow into a confrontation now, he would spare himself and Tony the awkward silences, the suspicious glares, the nasty comments that were sure to come until enough resentment built up and they exploded in his face.

Romanov shot him without preamble, and then moved to get behind cover.

Since he had been expecting it, Loki casually plucked the bullet from the air and flicked it in her direction, augmenting the throw with magic.

Widow was still moving; the bullet embedded itself in the floor barely missing her, leaving a small crater.

The hawk cursed, his voice full of worry and not a little fear.

Examining his nails, Loki commented, "Oh, look, it really _is_ all you can do, after all." He sounded painfully uninterested, but his eyes glinted mischievously at the mortals from under his thick lashes.

"What do you want, Loki?" Romanov growled at him, a small part of her face visible from behind the column she had put between Loki and her.

Loki had to concede that her anger was impressive. Then he turned and caught Barton's fist, which had come out of the blue towards his head with a sharp knife in its grasp.

Clint roared, trying to tug his arm free or twist the knife closer to Loki's face.

Inwardly laughed at him, Loki turned to Romanov. "Nothing much," he answered her, giving at Barton a friendly smile, "I merely wanted to invite you up for dinner." Then he pressed some pressure points in the limb that made Barton drop his knife.

The mortal's eyes were wide with fear now, but he stared into Loki's eyes defiantly. "As if we'd eat anything _you_ cooked!" he spat, sounding only mildly hysterical. He didn't stop trying to take his hand back, despite the pain in his wrist. "It's probably poisoned with mind-altering drugs, like what you've been feeding Stark!"

Romanov chose that moment to pounce on them.

Loki had to let go of Barton to turn around in a roundhouse kick, parrying Romanov's knives by kicking her arms aside. He managed to catch her in the chin with his heel as well, sending her spinning to the ground.

Barton grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, holding a knife to his throat.

Loki didn't give Barton the satisfaction of crying uncle — instead, the clone in Barton's arms melted into mud-textured ectoplasm.

The mortal cried out and pulled back, disgusted, shaking his hands to get rid of the slimy stuff. He looked around for Loki, being familiar with the trick.

The true Loki appeared from behind a pillar, holding his hand up and slightly apart — more an open, inviting gesture than a giving-up one. "Then you might want to observe me cook, and assure yourself and your... partner that everything is drug-free," he grinned amiably.

Barton didn't even think it once. "Yes, I'm gonna monitor you, you bet I will," he said, before realising just exactly what he had just decided to subject himself to and visibly cursing himself in his head. He put the knife away anyway, tucking it back into his boot, and squared his shoulders.

'_Oh, I wasn't wrong. You _do_ have heart,_' Loki thought, pleased.

Natasha decided it was as good a moment as any to pick herself off the ground, cradling the side of her jaw gently.

Barton was at her side immediately.

"Miss Romanov might want some ice for her face," Loki said in a stage whisper, wincing sympathetically. "Come along, then." He very pointedly turned his back on them, walking to the elevator. Once inside, he turned and watched them both evenly.

They still weren't on the damned metal box.

"Are you coming?" Loki asked, but his tone implied '_what are you waiting for, stupid mortals?_'

The assassins shared a look, communicating silently, and then Barton said, "No offense, but we're not getting into a tiny metal box with you, asshole. We'll go up on the next trip."

Fair enough. "See you there, then." Loki waved at them and disappeared slowly, fading away like the Cheshire cat — leaving his mocking smile for last — and teleported into the kitchen, grinning genuinely at how easily he had successfully goaded the mortal into spending quality alone-time with Loki.

Maybe they could use that time to reach a truce, and possibly even an understanding.

* * *

Rhodey rode the elevator down to the R&D level. He didn't really know this place, having mostly visited Tony back at his Malibu estate, way back before this Tower was even built. He stood and fiddled with his collar, wondering what state Tony was really in.

Sure, okay, he'd tweeted and Loki didn't seem to be the rapist a scant few tabloids made the dictator out to be, but still. Tony Stark and been MIA for more than three months; something was bound to have snapped, or at least changed, in him. Especially since Tony had already had a bit of PTSD from the first rescue in Afghanistan.

Rhodey had been there with Tony during his recovery; it was hard, considering that soon after his rescue and rehabilitation back in the United States, his only family, his trusted almost-uncle Obadiah Stane, had betrayed him and made an attempt on Tony's life. Rhodey knew why Stark smiled so easily: he never made the effort to mean it after that.

Already expecting to see a different version of his best friend, Rhodey was surprised when the elevator dinged and he finally say him, wearing a familiar Aerosmith shirt, goggles slapped on his face, and holding a couple of metallic rods in hand.

"Loki? You never use the elevator—" Tony quipped as he turned, his mouth spread in an all too familiar grin, knowing the assassins didn't have clearance to come down here. Then he realized, "—Rhodey?!"

"Tony," the sergeant smiled sheepishly. "Look at you." He offered Tony a fist bump.

Tony dropped whatever he was doing, leaving poor Bruce to handle the energy-reception rods. He grabbed Rhodey's waiting fist and pulled him into a manly half-hug. "Rhodey, wow. Still rocking the uniform, huh? Loki didn't tell me you were coming along for—" he paused. Then laughed. "That cheeky bastard. Well, glad to see you around. I trust you've already seen all the plans and stuff. Bruce did awesome, yeah?"

Bruce half-turned and waved politely with a mute "Hullo" on his lips. "Hi, you must be Colonel Rhodes?"

"Yep," Tony replied for him, cutting Rhodey off.

It was beginning to get annoying. '_Those two really are alike in some ways_,' Rhodey thought, comparing his friend to the god.

"Rhodey, this is Bruce, Bruce, Rhodey," Tony introduced excitedly.

"Tony talks a lot about you," Bruce said and readjusted his glasses, moving the rods to one hand and offering the other for a shake.

Rhodey took it. "Does he, now? I sure hope they're mostly good things."

The three chuckled before Tony waved his friend over to look and see what the 'science team' was up to.

Rhodey's mind was spinning since he really didn't understand much of the engineering that went behind the weapons he fired, but when he saw the Tesseract, sitting pretty in a transparent case, his mouth almost watered. "My God. So that's what it looks like."

"Pretty, huh?" the engineer nodded. "Also you probably shouldn't stare at it directly for too long. Just a precaution."

Bruce nodded his consent, handing over a pair of goggles.

Rhodey took them and set them on his face easily, complying without question. These boys knew what they were doing. In fact, the latest plans Loki had shown him now, made in defense of Earth, was probably _the_ most powerful firepower he'd ever seen anyone pack in the whole history of the world. If someone did want to rule the world by force, Tony Stark was a good start. And if the man had ever gone evil overlord... Rhodey didn't want to think of the disaster that would follow that. Tony had so much power, it was frightening. And yet, just looking at the proud saunter and the eager words of his friend... somehow Rhodey knew Tony had still held onto his heart somehow, wherever he'd been locked away.

Somehow, he was still Anthony Stark.

The two scientists began to go over their plans, showing Rhodey what they aimed to accomplish with the Tesseract's energy. Of course, most of the time, they had to resort to layman's terms, but for the most part Rhodey understood. Energy source from another world equaled 'big boom,' as Tony sarcastically put it.

That was when Jarvis chimed in. "I beg your pardon, sirs. I do hate to interrupt. I would just like to inform you that there has been a small skirmish down in the training room. No one was harmed. Loki and the assassins are currently in the uppermost kitchen. Just thought you would like to know, Sir."

"They're _what?_" Tony looked worried. "Oh, God, I need to... We should probably go check on them."

Rhodey and Bruce looked at Tony before exchanging their own glances. They nodded, with Bruce shutting off the device they'd been using to try and gather power from the Tesseract, setting the rods down and getting to his feet.

The three piled into the elevator, and Jarvis took them all up obediently.

Bruce couldn't help but notice the way Stark was bouncing on his feet, trying his best not to look nervous and failing at it. '_Oh, this could be bad. This could be really bad.' _

Back up on the penthouse level, the elevator dinged and let them out. Tony was the first to bolt, with Rhodey and Bruce walking quickly after as the engineer led them to the kitchen fast. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing exploded, nothing broken or missing — good sign, right?

"Loki?!" Tony popped his head into the kitchen, doe-eyed with worry. He'd been expecting the worst.

Loki turned around in curiosity. "Yes, Anthony?" he asked innocently. He was wearing a stained, clearly well used apron, and holding a humongous knife in his right hand. In his other, he held a whole skinned chicken up by one leg.

Tony just stared dumbfounded at Loki, wincing at the sight of the chicken. For a brief, horrible (and morbidly comical) moment, Tony thought the Trickster had turned the Hawk ironically into said chicken and was... He shook his head, disgusted. Yeah, that was just his head getting away with him.

The fridge was open, and the door hid the SHIELD archer, though his combat boots were peeking out underneath. His head popped out from behind the edge of the door. "What did you want, again?" he asked Loki, his face twisted into that of someone who can't remember something, though not for lack of trying. He spotted Stark and frowned, pointing at the alien dictator. "He's making me _cook_," he accused, voice full of righteous fury.

Oh, cool then. Tony relaxed. Everything seemed to be alright.

"No," Loki disagreed with the air of a mother who has said the same thing to her sulking child one thousand times too many, "_you_ insisted you wanted to come, my little hawk, remember?" He casually snipped off the chicken's drumsticks and thighs as he spokes, using his fingers as scissors; the crunch of breaking bone and the wet squelch of tearing flesh punctuated his words ominously. "And I need the garlic," he added as an afterthought.

Clint's eyes widened indignantly. "I did _not_!" he screeched, "Tell them, Tasha." He remained behind the open fridge door, his eyes scanning the shelves for the stupid garlic.

The previously unnoticed Natasha, busy icing the left side of her jaw and leaning against the counter island with a reluctantly amused glint in her eyes, merely explained, "Loki tricked Clint into helping him cook dinner. He never saw it coming." Her pretty lips twisted into a small smirk. Granted, she hadn't seen it coming either, only realising what Loki had been after all along when the words left his mouth. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, though; she knew he could have tricked Clint into something much worse.

Surprised, Loki turned to her, eyebrows lifted, and inclined his head, graciously accepting the hidden compliment.

Barton's frustrated growl rumbled in the fridge, arriving to them comically distorted. "Argh, I give _up_. Where the hell is the garlic?!" he shouted, slamming the fridge door shut. It was now visible that he was wearing an apron to match Loki's — only his was frilly and pink and said "_keep calm and kiss the cook_" in black, with the imprint of lips at the top.

"Nice apron," Tony had to add, snorting without remorse. "L–looks good on you, Barton." And then he cackled, leaning into Bruce as the two caught up.

Rhodey and Banner couldn't help but laugh right along too, though Bruce was casting worried glances at the Widow icing her jaw.

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the giggling from their audience, Loki dropped the pieces of chicken back onto the cutting board, wiped his hands on a dish towel that was bound for laundry anyway, and walked towards the fridge, opening it gently. He got out the garlic, with had been at the very top shelf and therefore invisible to Barton, and a case of six bottles of beer. Setting the garlic down on the counter in front of Barton without a word, to generalised snickering, Loki continued on his path to Tony. He leaned closer and told him, "Please take the peanut gallery with you," as he pushed the box into Tony's belly insistently.

Tony grabbed it by reflex. "Why?" There was a look of worry on his face for a moment, but that worry was quickly shoved away.

"I wish to speak with Barton alone," Loki whispered, looking down and blushing the slightest of pinks, though only Tony could see his face. He wished to kiss Tony, cup his face, stroke his arm, anything to show affection, guessing his mortal had come running to his aid, even though it wasn't needed. He had been as worried for Loki as Loki had been for him, earlier, and it warmed in Loki something deep inside that he had thought frozen for years. But Loki wouldn't do it in public yet — maybe in front of Bruce, who had all but given them his blessing, but not in front of people to whom he was supposed to appear strong.

Tony nodded. Loki was trying to right his wrongs, mend what he'd broken, and Tony was going to stick to that belief until Loki proved him otherwise, he supposed. It was strangely ironic, coming to trust the God of Lies, but then again Tony had already seen (and felt) firsthand that Loki only wanted to fix things now. There was of course, another look on his face in the absence of his consternation, this one shared by the god. Stark wanted nothing more than to lean forward and bridge the gap to Loki's lips, but there was still the fact that they should probably _not_ put on a display while everyone was still a bit uneasy. Maybe after a treaty's signed, Tony decided. "Alright, I got 'em. Don't worry," he murmured.

Loki contented himself with brushing Tony's hands with his fingers and smiling affectionately as he took one of the bottles.

"Hey guys, let's leave the chefs to their business. Who's up for poker?" Tony waggled his arms and corralled the heroes out of there ("And yes, you too, Nat"), heading them all out into the penthouse.

The kitchen was suddenly silent, with only Loki, Barton to fill the space with smalltalk.

Loki swallowed. When he turned, Barton wasn't looking at him, very pointedly, and Loki sighed, opening the bottle. Instead of drinking from it, though, he put it down next to the still untouched garlic and pushed it towards Barton; a peace offering.

Barton said nothing, did nothing. He merely stared at his own feet.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, Loki grabbed the garlic and set to chopping it, adding it to the scallion he had previously chopped. Cooking for so many people was a hassle, but one he should get used to; if everything went to plan, he would be cooking for several more. The chicken was already cut up into pieces, the seasoning almost done, and it would be going into the oven soon. Time to get started on the mashed potatoes. "Would you be a dear, my warrior hawk, an—"

"_Would you stop already!"_ Barton all but screamed, slapping the counter and glaring at Loki with fire in his eyes.

"—d pass me six big potatoes?" Loki finished as if Barton hadn't said anything. "Would I stop what, my dear?" he asked impassively without even looking at him, assembling the chicken pieces into a roasting tin, putting the garlic and green onion liberally on it.

"_That_!" Barton screeched, furious, but he still went to the vegetable basket. "You _keep_ talking to me like that, like I'm _yours_!" He sounded disgusted and profoundly hurt. "Your _little warrior hawk_," he mimicked, sounding nauseous, "it's fucking condescending!" He threw a potato at Loki's unsuspecting back, catching him on the back of the head as he was putting the tray into the oven.

The tuber all but exploded upon contact, breaking into pieces and mush. Barton really hadn't pulled his punch, and Loki's head was hard like concrete; that potato was doomed from the beginning.

Loki dropped the tray, but it was already inside and it merely landed on the grill in the oven. Loki himself wasn't so lucky, though: the force propelled him forward, and he barely caught himself on the top edge of the oven before his forehead landed on the hot metal. He pulled back with a hiss, looking at his hands. Straight lines of burnt flesh had been seared into his palms and fingers, the smell of roasted meat pleasant in the air.

The kitchen smelled like food, despite it being Loki's flesh that had been cooked.

Loki stared dumbly at the burns, not yet feeling the pain, and then turned around.

Barton was panting hard and baring his teeth in anger, tremors shaking his fisted hands. Still, he seemed like he regretted it, even though he didn't say anything.

Loki looked didn't know what to say either, so it was okay. He looked away from Barton, murmured, "Please peel the potatoes and set them to boil, Barton," with very little inflection and walked out of the kitchen, knowing he would need some peace and quiet before he even attempted to heal the burn. His and Tony's room would be good for that. What rankled most was not the way the burn that much worse because of his hidden nature as a cold creature, or the way Barton had scorned the actually affectionate nickname — it was the tremor in the man's voice, like he still hated and feared and respected Loki the same time. Leftover sentiment from the spell, to be sure, and it would make fixing things a bit rougher.

Deep inside, Barton might still love him like his master, the pathways already carved in his mind by the spell. He must be fighting tooth and nail against it, against imposed instincts that were was now as natural as breathing, but still he couldn't help but feel hurt that Loki had abandoned him without a second thought.

'_Will it be like that with everyone else, once I release them from the spell?_' he wondered, sighing, as he sat cross-legged on the bed in the semi-darkness, the only light coming from the hallway through the ajar door. Barton had been his best operative, and Loki had taken a liking to him, the same way he had taken a liking to his hunting hawks and falcons. He had loved those birds to pieces, sometimes sneaking them pieces of sausage he stole from the breakfast table, and they certainly had loved him back, bringing him the biggest game without even taking a bite.

Barton had been that for him — his favourite among all the mortals whose hearts he had stolen.

Loki closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on healing his burns. A bruise or a scratch was easy. Burns? Not when they were this deep. Still, he couldn't stop thinking how wretched Barton must feel, used and abused and then discarded. He shook his head, trying to clear it again, and saw the lights turning on through his closed eyelids. "...What?" he asked dumbly, blinking in the sudden brightness.

Barton was there, standing in the threshold of the room, holding a box. "That's not how you take care of burns, you know," he said, sounding angry. He hesitated before entering, but then steeled himself and walked towards a chair by the bed, dragging over and sitting down in front of Loki, his box on his lap. "Give me your hands," he ordered brusquely.

"There is no need," Loki said softly, but gave his hands over all the same, not wishing to upset Barton further. "I can heal myself with magic, remember?" He probably would — he had guarded Loki when he meditated to heal his body from the side-effects of being _convinced_ by Thanos and his people. He had stayed up all night, making sure nothing happened to Loki, like a loyal hound.

Barton looked him steadily in the eye as he put some sort of healing pomade on the burns, as if daring him to bring it up again. Then he looked down to watch where he bandaged without saying a thing.

The process took maybe five minutes, which they spent in complete silence. The din of fun and merrymaking reached them from the living room all the way down the hall. Loki hoped they, at least, were having fun.

"I am sorry," Loki blurted out suddenly, looking down at Barton's calloused hands moving with practised ease over and under, over and under. His eyes widened — he hadn't meant to _say_ that — and he looked up at Barton, alarmed.

Barton paused, looking up as well. "Why are _you_ sorry? I was the one who got you burnt."

"...You know why," the alien said, voice small. He wasn't used to apologising.

The mortal remained still for a fraction of a second, before shrugging and finishing the second bandage. '_It's okay_,' he wanted to say. '_It wasn't personal, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time_.' It was something his therapist had been trying to make him see every session, and he was finally understanding.

Loki hadn't spelled him out of a sick kick for controlling people, or because he hated humans, not even because he truly thought humans were ants. Loki had merely needed soldiers, operatives; and Barton had given himself to him almost in a silver platter. But Loki had told him to sleep and eat, contrary to what Tasha thought — the god hadn't just used them, he had taken care of them, like a proper army, feeding them and giving them shifts so they would rest.

As far as bosses went, Loki was actually one of the best he had had. He gave praise freely, never asked from his soldiers more than they could give, and he kept them all relatively happy, not coutning the Tesseract-fuelled nightmares. But he just _had_ to treat Clint as if he was special one day, and then go and kill Coulson the next.

Clint burned with anger. "Hm, I dunno," he said sarcastically, his hands clenching on his knees. "For calling me pet-names? For mind-raping me? For making me kill my comrades and friends? For killing Phil Coulson?" He enjoyed, deep inside, how Loki flinched a little with every accusation. "There really is a _lot_ to choose from, ain't there, _Boss_?"

Then Loki looked him in the eye.

Clint's breath caught a little, remembering _who_ he was talking to.

"Yes. For all that. I apologise for needing to take over your loyalties, and for doing so. I do not regret, though, taking a liking to you. I said it once and I repeat it: you have heart." His liking of Barton was honest, at least. "And Philip Coulson is not dead, although I did wound him grievously in an attempt to spur you into working together."

Clint gaped. "Phi is alive?" he asked dumbly, completely forgetting his resentment of Loki and fear of what he could do.

Nodding, Loki answered, "He was in intensive care. I had him moved to the healing house of best repute in the country. He, aside from Tony Stark, was the only who could see through me, and I believed that to be worthy of respect. As far as I know, he is still in that hospital. His body is done healing, but he still has trouble moving." It was how Jarvis had explained it to him, when Loki said he didn't know that physiotherapy was, or why he was paying for it.

Barton was quiet for a bit, looking down with the smallest of smiles on his face — or maybe it was just the way the tension around his eyes smoothed out that made it look like he was smiling. Then he putting away the bandages and pomade back into the box, closing it and standing up when done. "You don't get to call me anything but Barton or Clint, are we clear?" he asked, looking away.

"As clear as a stream of melted snow, _Clint,_" Loki answered, relieved.

Clint shuddered. "Okay, maybe we're not there yet, _Loki_. Let's stick to Barton for now," he added, leaving to take the box back to wherever it had come from.

Loki laughed slightly, looking down at his hands and smiling. Barton was too honorable for his own good, and also too emotional, yet he still was professional and the best shot he'd ever seen. A man Loki was proud to know, though he would never admit it. After a while, he stood and returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

The bottle of beer was half empty, sitting on the counter next to the cooktop, upon which was a pot of peeled and cut potatoes, merrily boiling away.

Loki smiled down at his hands, apologizing to them internally. Letting himself fall forward onto the oven had been one of the better gambles he had ever taken; the soreness in his palms was more than worth the peace it would bring.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 11th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki ended up alone, in Tony's bathroom, brushing his teeth and taking off the needless bandages. Afterwards, he went to Tony's bed, still alone, only now clad in pajama bottoms. He remained sitting on the bed at first, his back against the headboard, playing some mind-numbing game on his StarkPad, ready to bolt._

_Ten minutes passed and he got stuck on level fifty-six. Tony still hadn't come._

_He debated going to his own assigned room._

* * *

**End notes:**

I'd really like it if people could start leaving a review here or there. Since Potkanka is busy and she can't comment, I feel like I'm posting into a vaccum. Can you really call a story a favourite if you can't be bothered to drop even an "I like this, please update soon"?

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	17. Bonding

**Chapter Title:** Bonding

**Chapter Rating**: T.

**Chapter Length: **3.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings:** some sexitiems.

**Chapter Summary: **Dinner at Stark Tower is all fun and games, until Tony gets caught up in all the people, and Loki slinks away to hide.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

The flatscreen was turned to some kind of cartoon (ironically, it was _Batman_), running on the background while Tony sat everyone down on the plush leather seating and stuck a beer in their hands. Rummaging for his playing cards took only a few moments, once he remembered he usually kept them somewhere near the open bar.

There was a _thump_ and a yell issuing from the kitchen, but no one made any move to go check.

Tony was going through the motions of dealing out hands when he saw Loki stalk away from the kitchen. Everyone's brows rose in question, but Tony made sure to speak over their curious thoughts. He thought Loki looked like he needed to be alone (but fuck, were those _burns_ on his hands?) so he would make damn sure he got it. Worry began to creep through his blood again but he reminded himself that that god was just that; he could take care of himself.

And then Clint walked out soon after.

Oooh, drama.

"Hit me," Bruce called, laying down a card and covering for Loki and Clint as well.

Tony nodded appreciatively and passed it over.

"It's alright. We're not going anywhere," Natasha said knowingly, her cards held in her hand like a fan. "Clint needs this. He needs to do this." She set down a card.

Tony handed her another. He suddenly realized it was probably a bad idea to play poker with a woman like Natasha; she had an impenetrable game face. Fighting the chill that went down his spine, Tony nodded. "That reminds me, Rhodey. Remember that one time we played strip poker over in Belgium?"

That set Rhodey ablaze with embarrassment, and soon the whole conversation was snowballing from there, the heroes eventually sharing their own similar stories and laughing it up. Clint and Loki were almost completely forgotten for the moment, especially when Natasha spoke of a particularly seductive game in which she had had to convince the president of the Albanian Republic of something. She wouldn't say what.

They all carried on like that in general good nature, even managing to pull the assassin from her general distance and Bruce from his shy disposition (mostly). The only lull in the game came when Clint and Loki emerged from the room again, but even then they continued easily.

It had already been confirmed to her, but Natasha still took notice of how comfortable Loki seemed when entering and exiting Stark's room. Tony really _had_ gotten chummy with the god, hadn't he?

Soon, the smell of some savory chicken dish began to waft into all rooms in the penthouse, and everyone was nearly drooling.

Tony himself felt his stomach growl in protest. "Jeez, that smells awesome," he groaned, inhaling deeply and savouring the smell of home-cooked food in _his_ residence. "Hey, Mr. President!" he catcalled, hoping by now Loki and Barton had got whatever off their chests. No arrows seemed to have been fired, so that was a good sign. "Dinner almost done? I think we're all about to eat each other out here!"

Coming from Stark, that just sounded naughty.

Loki walked out of the kitchen just as the sentence passed Tony's lips, carrying a tablecloth and a pile of dishes in his still bandaged hands, though he had healed the burns already. "Well, if you must," he answered in clearly fake exasperation, playing along, "but make it so the peasants do not find out, I would hate to have idle mouths saying I am enabling cannibalism now." He continued on to the dining room.

He could hear Tony's guffaw, and Barton's soft snort from where he was carrying the glasses and cutlery.

Loki grinned where nobody could see him, content in the thought that through wit and food he would conquer even the most recalcitrant mortal soon enough.

The table was big enough to seat eight comfortably. Loki had used the chair at the the head of the table when eating, back when he still lived alone in the tower; when his guests came, they had still stuck to the head and the seats on either side, instead of spreading out on the table. Now, they were finally enough people to use the table as it had been intended, and soon they would be even more, with Rogers and Thor, if Foster managed to complete the Bridge, though Loki was secretly dreading his arrival.

Sighing, Loki tossed the tablecloth up in the air over the table. The magic he had infused it with during the throw made it spread and adjust itself as it fell, laying itself on the tabletop perfectly with nary a crease.

"Neat trick," Barton admitted grudgingly from behind him.

Loki straightened a bit, unable to help preening at the praise. "You have seen nothing yet," he smirked, and though the original plan had been to set the table by hand to avoid alarming the company with casual displays of magic, he wanted to show off now. He picked up the topmost plate and threw it like a frisbee, and did the same with the second before the first even landed, and so on.

They all landed perfectly on the spots they were supposed to, as if attracted magnetically to them.

There was a slow clap.

Rememb, remembering Barton had his hands full, Loki turned, curious.

Rhodes was there, beer bottle tucked between his forearm and chest as he grinned. "Amazing," he said, sounding honest. "By the way, Bruce and Tony went to get the food and drinks, so we just stay here and wait."

"Very well," Loki inclined his head, and returned his attention to the table, where Barton was laying down the glasses and cutlery. "Gratitude, my wa—" he cut himself off, realising he had almost called Barton by his hated nickname, and amended, "My gratitude, Barton."

Clint looked uncomfortable, but grunted in acknowledgement, shrugging with one shoulder.

Banner chose that moment to come in, carrying the pot with the mashed potatoes and two dish towels to put under that and the roasting tin Tony had in his hands so they wouldn't scorch the table. "Good grief, Loki! What happened to your hands?" he asked, quickly putting down the terrycloth and the pot on the table and rushing to Loki's side.

Loki raised his hand to stop him, presenting him with the bandages. "It is nothing." he said, placatingly.

Banner made to grab them and examine them. "Let me—"

Loki pulled his backs back. "Really, Bruce, it was nothing," he said, a little more intensely, looking at him seriously. "I am well. Just a little burn, and Barton already took care of it." His eyes flicked to Barton as if watching to see if he would contradict Loki.

He didn't. He was busy whispering something with Romanov, huddled together; for all appearances, he hadn't even noticed.

Finally connecting the dots, Bruce said, "If you are sure..."

Grateful, Loki told him, "I am." He smiled and took his seat at the head of the table. "Come on, everyone, sit down. Let us share mead and meal," he invited.

The burns had concerned Tony too, probably even more so than they did Bruce, but he figured he would let up on the god since he'd already been checked on once. Tony could dote over him perhaps in the privacy of his room. ...Because Loki was going to share the room with him tonight, right? Hm. Tony would have to clarify that later. So instead of fussing over Loki's hands at that moment, he set the food down.

The dinner went well, with Loki at the head of the table (both physically and figuratively), and everyone occupying a chair around the grand table.

It was the closest thing Tony had ever had to an actual dinner with a full house, with people he was more or less close with (and that was saying something for the playboy who kept everyone at arm's length). And the thing was, Tony _enjoyed_ it, having lived essentially in solitude long before his imprisonment. Everyone seemed to open up more or less, especially after a few more expensive beers got passed around the table, and even more after Stark decided maybe everyone would enjoy a nice white wine and got out the aged Didier Daganeau Silex.

Natasha noticed it was Loki he was the first to pour a glass for, but didn't comment on it other that to poke Clint with her elbow and nod in their direction. The assassins sat mostly in silence, though Clint did seem a bit more animated and less uptight about Loki's presence. (Tony was incredibly proud of Loki for that).

It was mostly Rhodey and Tony who chat up a storm about their previous adventures, usually involving Tony's lack-of-giving-a-shit and always ending up with Rhodey-to-the-rescue or Tony-having-to-pay-a-pricey-sum-of-money-for-somet hing-or-another, but even they gave pause to listen to some of Loki's wonderful storytelling whenever he found it appropriate to chime in, and everyone seemed to pause and listen with much rapture.

The god was truly gifted at telling of tales, weaving the story around them until they could practically taste it, and he did it with the power of words alone. Tony couldn't help but begin to grow more infatuated with the deity and his charisma, now that the fire had already been lit under his passions.

Bruce seemed to favor the mashed potatoes a great deal, devastating them as he spoke quietly when the conversations turned to the matters at hand. Tony chipped in as they both described what was going to be happening (and Tony didn't see iany way it could be harmful to at least describe to the assassins how they would be essentially _saving the world_). It wasn't like he was handing the plans over to the Resistance or anything. It was just talk.

Which, of course, meant the talk eventually devolved back into general conversation. Tony asked how the Avengers had fared while he was away, making sure he strayed from anything that sounded a bit too accusatory of Loki.

Clint and occasionally Natasha explained how the Avengers had gone into hiding sans Tony and Bruce. They had actually been surprised at both of their captures, considering the Hulk had been pretty much unstoppable for the most part. They spoke of daily life, having to ration food at first before they began to resort to more underhanded ways of obtaining what they all needed. Of course, eventually they established themselves in secret bunkers owned by SHIELD and branched out after that. They wouldn't say much more on as to where, of course, but they shared enough.

And then the conversations became a little less serious, Tony and Rhodes taking the wheel again.

Everything petered out after that, with nothing but crumbs, a few leftovers, empty wine glasses, and full bellies by the end of the meal. And Tony couldn't be happier.

Loki ushered everyone out after dinner, choosing to wash the dishes and put everything away himself if it meant no longer being in the presence of Barton and Romanov. Sure, he could play magnanimous host for days on end if he needed to, but this time... He had expended a lot of magic without meaning to that day, especially with the display he put on for Fury, and he wanted nothing more than to tumble into bed with Tony's warm body tucked into his arms and sleep for three days.

Rhodes had decided to stay the night, which was great for Loki's depleted magical reserves, but tough on his plan to get Tony on his own. The mortal was so, so _happy_ talking to his friend that Loki hardly had the heart to kick Rhodes out and steal Tony for himself.

Banner helped Loki clean up — which Loki was grateful for — smiling knowingly at Loki. "I think he and the colonel have a lot to catch up on," he commented idly. "You should get some sleep."

Which was how Loki ended up alone, in Tony's bathroom, brushing his teeth and taking off the needless bandages. Afterwards, he went to Tony's bed, still alone, only now clad in pajama bottoms. He remained sitting on the bed at first, his back against the headboard, playing some mind-numbing game on his StarkPad, ready to bolt.

Ten minutes passed and he got stuck on level fifty-six. Tony still hadn't come. He debated going to his own assigned room. Ah, but no, it would be lent to Rhodes. Loki had no place to go.

Sighing, Loki turned off the handheld computer, laid down on his side and stared blankly at the wall, before asking Jarvis to turn off the lights. He grabbed Tony's pillow between his arms and buried his face in it. The high-thread-count cotton was very soft against his cheek, and it smelled deliciously of a mixture of Tony and himself, so he inhaled deeply several times.

If Tony didn't want him there, he figured, he could simply wake Loki. Still, he was a little nervous about the sheer _presumption_ of simply sleeping in Tony's bed without invitation. Or without paying some sort of sex-tax.

He couldn't sleep, and he laid there, his heart hammering excitedly at the thought of Tony finding him in his bed.

* * *

Bruce watched Loki go into Tony's room without word or invitation, and grinned. Only the two of them could manage to find each other despite the odds against them. In fact, he thought it very poetic — two people whom the life, the universe and everything had screwed over were now basically telling the world to screw off.

He watched Tony's animated face as he talked with Colonel Rhodes. It was good, seeing him happy. He wondered if that was the reason Loki hadn't made them part company and stolen Tony for his own use.

Remembering Loki's soft smile as they washed up, Bruce decided it must be so.

"Well," he said, stretching his arms and yawning gently, "I'm off to bed, then. Rhodes," he added, turning to the man and offering his hand."It's been a pleasure, but I'm knackered. You can sleep in the other guest room." It was the one Loki had moved to, but Bruce knew he wouldn't care overmuch. "I'm pretty sure the bed is still made."

Rhodes looked slightly confused, but shook his hand and bid him goodnight. "How many guest rooms do you have in your floor?" he asked Tony once the scientist had left. "One for Banner, one for Loki, and there's another one for me?"

Rhodey and Tony really had had a lot to share. He had loved catching up with his best friend (though, he supposed maybe he had two now, considering he'd grown close with Bruce in so short a time). They had talked of more sour things every so often, but kept mostly to light banter, reminiscing on stories they hadn't already covered at the table. And trust Tony, they hadn't even scratched the surface. It was nice, but being with Loki was nice too, and so Tony eventually yawned soon after Banner had stumbled off to his own room. He had caught Loki slinking off out of the corner of his eye, wondering why the god hadn't asked him to come with him. But he supposed the god was giving him his space, which was fine too.

Distracted by these thoughts (and picturing Loki in their bed), Tony answered, "Two," before he realized what he'd said. Then he paused. "Oh, uh." He scratched his head. Surely Rhodey had seen the matching marks on their necks, right?

Rhodey just blinked at Tony and gave him a look. "Right," he said, quickly getting it. He knew his friend too well. And yet... it did baffle him. Tony Stark didn't usually have more than a one-night stand with a person. '_One ticket per customer,'_ the billionaire playboy had told him oncey. Then again, that was the old Tony, the one that Rhodes had known way back at MIT. He shrugged and chuckled, shaking his head at his friend. "I hope you know what you're getting into, buddy. Just play it safe okay?"

"Always do." A wink and a laugh.

Then Rhodey was moving off to his room for the night.

Tony waited until he disappeared before he turned to his own room. And, oooh, he was _excited. _He opened the door slowly, whistling as he took his time to begin pulling his shoes off. The man acted as if he didn't see the god on his bed, slowly turning to his walk-in closet and shuffling out of his shirt and pants. Hrm. Dare he even bother keeping his boxers on? He supposed he would, for now, finally turning slowly and... suddenly dashing at the bed, running over and hopping onto the expensive mattress, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from the frazzled god.

Loki awoke at once from his paper-thin sleep and reacted immediately, one hand flying to hold his assailant by the neck, the other aiming a blade of pure energy coming from his fingers at the soft underside of the assailant's jaw. Then his eyes focused and he saw Tony.

"Didja miss me?" the man asked nervously, smile frozen onto his face, feeling the blade bite into his skin a little. His life had more or less just flashed before his eyes.

Loki blinked, and his whole posture melted, the weapon dissolving as he smiled back at him. His heart still pounding from the small fright, Loki moved the hand around Tony's neck to cup the back of his head and drew Tony down for a kiss. Unable to help but laugh into it, Loki had to cut the kiss halfway through. "Silly mortal, never wake me so brusquely," he chastised, still chuckling, and stroked Tony's cheekbone with his thumb. "Have you never heard the wise saying 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'?" he questioned, unable to manage a serious face or a lecturing tone.

Despite his chasticing words, he was insanely giddy that Tony had chosen to jump on him and shower him in affection instead of kicking him out, even if his highly-strung body had reacted less than pleasantly.

On that note... "I apologise," he added, instead it wasn't clear in his affectionate gaze that it hadn't been his intention at all to harm Tony in any way. "Are you well? I harmed you not?"

"N–nope. I'm good," Tony swallowed, both chuckling and startled only for the moment. He'd felt those fingers around his throat before, back when he'd been defenestrated; he remembered them well. The blade though, he didn't remember that part. But of course, Loki didn't really hurt him, and Tony laughed it off. He rubbed at his neck, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had gone through him. The half-kiss reward had been nice.

Loki looked dubious.

"I'm alright," Tony said to reassure him, moving unsteady hands to the god's hair and stroking through it. After a moment of hesitation, he scooted closer and kissed his lover again, shuffling under the sheets. "Mmmm... You taste like expensive wine," he hummed with approval, licking his own lips when he pulled back a space. "I didn't know you were sleeping already. I've been waiting allllll damn day to get you alone." Tony laughed. "Hm, that sounded creepy but you know what I mean," the billionaire smiled, shoving one hand under the blanket and clawing his fingers up along one of the god's slender legs.

Loki smiled at Tony affectionately, holding his eyes to let him see the effect he was having on him. He may or may not have blushed slightly — so Tony _had_ been thinking of the same thing as Loki all day, after all. That was both flattering and reassuring. Loki's hand curled around Tony's shoulder, barely grazing the skin before setting down comfortably there. "The same is true for me, Tony," he said softly, and his hand moved to rest around Tony's neck, his fingers brushing the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "But I did not care to cut short you time with your friend. I can always have you afterwards." And it was ridiculously presumptuous of him to assume there even would _be_ an 'afterwards', but he cared not a jot.

"Awh, well thanks," Tony laughed at the god's courtesy. So Loki hadn't wanted to bother him, after all? That was cute, though he supposed he'd rather not tease Loki about it. He'd already gotten away with releasing Loki's sleeping picture to the hostile and hungry world of the Internet. "It was nice catching up with Rhodey, actually. So I appreciate that. You sly dog," he nudged the god in the shoulder gently, "I didn't even know he was coming over." He pecked Loki's nose. "You deserve a reward," he purred suggestively

Lovely. That was what Tony was. Lovely and genuine and endearingly honest about his desire.

On that note... "Tony, my dear," Loki murmured, pulling Tony closer so that their foreheads touched, "if you find me in slumber again, feel free to—" He bit his lip, unsure how to ask this, and his eyes flitted away from Tony's momentarily. "Feel free not to wake me before—" He stopped again, blushing, and ended in a whisper, "Before _touching_ me..." Yet again he trailed off. He was hereby giving Tony permission to use his body as he pleased while he was still asleep. It was a mark of great trust, to allow Tony to touch him when he couldn't give consent, but there were few things he could think of more lovely than waking to Tony taking his pleasure on his body unselfconsciously. Few things more lovely than extending that trust to someone and having it rewarded by the look in Tony's eyes right that moment.

"Ohhhh. Is that what you like, huh?" Tony waggled a brow, receiving the kisses and returning them. His eyes were black, pupils fully dilated. He leaned forward and straddled the god, kissing and nipping against the other's neck, breathing and whispering against Loki's ear. "You want me to use you, huh? Mmmm, that's super hot. I can do that," he grinned, tugging lightly on an earlobe with his teeth.

Loki smiled. "But remember, do not jump on me," he kissed Tony's nose, "or startle me," he kissed Tony's lips. The blankets pulled away on their own, sliding down Loki's legs and exposing the insistent tent in his pajamas. He could feel Tony's eyes all over him and grinned, feeling oddly vulnerable. "But for tonight, as I am awake already, how do you want me?"

* * *

**T.B.C. on Saturday 13th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_[CENSORED]_

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**End notes:**

*Grins widely* I knew you guys wouldn't let me down. 3 whole reviews! ILU, readers!

Oh, next chapter... Porn, just porn. I'll be censoring it on this site. I trust your googling skils, tho!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	18. Enamoured

**Chapter Title:** Enamoured

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length: **1k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **censored porn.

**Chapter Summary:** Loki and Tony make love without even knowing it.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki smiled. The blankets pulled away on their own, sliding down Loki's legs and exposing the insistent tent in his pajamas. He could feel Tony's eyes all over him and grinned, still feeling oddly vulnerable. "How do you want me?" he asked, not moving to pull Tony down on him, but visibly wishing to.

"On your back," Tony said after a moment of contemplation. I wanna see you when you come." He moved his mouth down against Loki's collarbone, licking flatly over a pink nipple. His fingers grazed down Loki's sides, moving to palm at the generous tent of his groin, fingering over the thinly veiled head while he watched his god's face for his delicious reaction.

"Hnnnn," Loki hummed, his eyes fluttering closed, his back arching slightly. "So good," he murmured, opening his eyes to half-mast and watching Tony lazily. Tony had no magic of his own, but Loki could feel his eyes on him like a caress nonetheless. Lovely. That, coupled with the gentle, teasing touches, made a previously unknown warmth spread through him, and it showed in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile. Tony wanted to watch his face? Even better. Loki had mourned the loss of the opportunity, yet they had come together three times and not once had Loki rectified that.

Good Tony, clever man. How had Loki landed the regard of this marvelous creature?

"On my back it shall be, then," he murmured, fingers stroking Tony's cheeks and brow and carding through his hair. He used his abdominal muscles to lift his upper body and took the pillow from under his head with his other hand, putting it aside and laying back down. He was completely flat this time, unhindered by the fluffy pillows, and he spread his arms and legs, offering Tony his body as if on a platter.

Gods, it was like worship, the best kind Tony could ever think. Loki was spread out for him to receive due touches and ministrations, and Tony couldn't help but feel like he lorded over this god too. So he touched everywhere, his fingers delineating Loki's genitals and balls, pressing the fabric down to see the silhouette better. "Holy fucking shit, you're beautiful," Tony breathed. He never thought he'd say that about another man, but there you go.

"I expect you will be taking me, tonight," Loki said, voice all gravel and velvet as it always became when aroused or angry. The heat in his eyes left no doubt as to which it was this time, especially when coupled with the way the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly as he spread his legs a little further, making room for Tony's hand to cup his genitals and press against the furled skin of his entrance through the thin cotton fabric.

"You bet I will," Tony answered breathily. Lowering himself, the playboy took the band of Loki's pajama bottoms in his teeth and slid them off with ease, holding his arms out as if to say 'Look, Ma, no hands!' There was no underwear underneath, and he tossed them away quickly, licking his lips and getting right back to touching any and every bit of skin he could find. His body heated simply from the sight of Loki completely in the nude, already raring to go.

Loki was enjoying the attention very much. "Prepare me well, Tony," he purred. "Use the fingers of both hands. I enjoy that." Understatement, if he had ever uttered one.

"Both hands, huh?" Tony scooted back to smooth his hands over the generous girth of his lover in a half-massage, loving the way taut, flushed skin pulled, tugging down over the man's shaft and pulling back the foreskin. He lifted his hands in thought, resting a finger against the god's lips. "Kinky. You've got some interesting little quirks there, Mister President," he smirked, running his finger over the delicate skin of his lips. "So, you wanna give me some of that wizard lube or am I gonna do this the old fashion way?"

Grinning filthily, Loki caught Tony's finger with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth, relishing in the entranced expression on Tony's face. He decided to go the extra mile and laved the finger with his tongue, closing his eyes and basically going to town.

"Oh, fuck," Tony moaned brokenly, and his other hand flew to his crotch, clenching in and rubbing slightly to relieve the pressure before returning to Loki's cock.

Loki felt another finger prod at the seam of his lips, and, after briefly opening his eyes to send Tony a mischievous and knowing glance, sucked it into his mouth as well, as if slurping noodles. He hummed in pleasure, focusing on Tony's warm hand gently teasing his cock, and proceeded to make Tony jealous of his own fingers, sucking and nibbling on them, licking between them, sucking them in and pushing them out with his tongue, making it look as if Tony was fucking his mouth with his fingers.

"Fuck, oh, Loki, you kinky slut," Tony panted loudly, his hand twitching helplessly around Loki each time his fingers disappeared into his mouth. There was not a trace of insult in his voice — merely the breathlessness of wonder.

Loki turned his head away, the spit-slick digits leaving a wet trail on his cheek, and murmured a spell that changed the spit to, as Tony so eloquently put it, 'magical lube'. "There you go, my dear," he murmured breathlessly, and wiggled his spread legs pointedly. "And for your information, I am very reserved." A bold-faced lie. "It is only with you that I let go, telling you all the tricks to having me debauched and wrecked." His hand stroked up Tony's thigh, brushing the coarse hairs lightly, and tugged at Tony's cock twice when he reached it. "Although I am confident you would figure it all out easily," he smiled.

"Mmm, well you do look pretty tempting in the morning so yeah, I'm pretty sure I'd figure it out," Tony winked, still trying to catch his breath from the little stunt with his fingers. He worked his lubed finger over the fingers of his other hand, slicking them up and ready to fulfill the god's kinks as they came. Because all Tony wanted was to see Loki... hmmm. How had he put it? 'Debauched and wrecked?' That seemed about right. His hands left trails of clear slime as they found their way to Loki's inner thigh. He spread Loki's legs even when the god was already so clearly inviting him in, wanting Loki to know the god's body was his to mess around with as he pleased.

And the most amazing thing of all: Loki let him, merely smiling indulgently at him.

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[CENSORED]

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Tony slumped down and released Loki's hips, letting his legs fall as he unwound their bodies from each other. He didn't, however, want to leave yet, and so sprawled out on top of his lover. He doubted his weight was anything for the god, and if it was, the dictator would surely say something. So he set to running his fingers through damp, raven-black hair and humming softly against Loki's neck, simply enjoying the wet warmth of their bodies pressed against each other. It was all too wonderful. Too perfect and he wasn't even sure how to voice it to the man beneath him. And, in some way, he was afraid it was all a dream and that when he awoke from it, he would find himself cold and alone on the floor of a cell.

Loki sighed contentedly, kissing Tony's temple. He brought his hands down from over his head, where they still lay, and discreetly wiped away the moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes before wrapping his arms around Tony sweaty back.

They just held each other and breathed for a while, until they calmed down, Loki's hands stroking up and down Tony's back, wiping the sweat to the side. He didn't say anything; strangely, neither did Tony. He would have thought him asleep were it not for the tickle of his eyelashes on Loki's neck every time he blinked. It seemed Tony was just as overwhelmed as Loki, and just as powerless to pretend otherwise.

Loki simply relaxed, his magic wiping them both clean except for the seed Tony had spilled in him, for he liked the idea of carrying a piece of Tony around with him, eventually incorporating him into his own body. It was a strange fancy, he knew, and apallingly sentimental, but for the life of him he couldn't muster the energy to be ashamed or self-conscious about it, fucked out as he was. He couldn't muster the courage to tell Stark all this, either; the courage to admit to him that he had managed to touch something in him, no so much climbing the walls of ice around Loki's heart as flying over cheerily, easy as breathing.

So he admitted nothing, and denied nothing, instead merely pulling the sheets and blankets onto their bodies. He didn't even move, Tony's small, warm weight pressing down on him comfortably, his measured breaths lulling Loki to sleep. He felt Tony nodding off as well, his body going limp as a rag doll on his chest, and he fell asleep with a soft smile on his face, his nose buried in Tony's messy hair.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 15th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_[CENSORED]_

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**End notes:**

Yep, another porn vacation I'm censoring out of ffnet. Next chapter too. Sorry!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	19. Sleeping Beauty

**Chapter Title: **Sleeping Beauty

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length:** ~3k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **Censored porn. Naked frolicking in bed afterwards.

**Chapter Summary:** Tony takes Loki up on his offer from last night.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 172k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is around 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki woke up warm and comfy. When he inhaled, he could smell the mingled scents of him and his lover, and he thought '_Mm, Tony._' He had no idea what had caused him to wake up, since he didn't even have a full bladder insistently calling his attention. Nor had he a morning erection, which made him smile and shake his head at his dick, thinking, '_I spoiled you too much and now you are tired, what will Tony say?_'

Then he noticed Tony's breathing was a bit ragged, interspersed with tiny moans and soft groans, and his smile grew. Tony really was insatiable, wasn't he? In the deep darkness, he pulled his head back a bit, turning it kiss Tony's forehead — and noticed the way his features were scrunched up. Within a second, he also noticed how tense his mortal was, how his legs twitched every now and then, how Tony's hands formed loose, sleepy fists near Loki's armpit and over his shoulder.

It wasn't a wet dream — it was a nightmare.

He lay there, half under Tony's body, paralyzed, his mind reeling. What should he do? Wake Tony? Let him muddle through? But he was clearly suffering! Loki didn't want Tony to feel the fear and anger he was evidently feeling, especially not inside his own head.

Deciding on a middle-ground, Loki wound one arm around Tony's form and made soothing circles on his shoulder. His other hand found one of Tony's, uncurling it and interlocking their fingers together as he murmured in Tony's ear nonsense along the lines of, "Shush, my dear, you are safe. You are home, in my arms, I shall allow no harm to touch you. There, there."

It took some time before Tony's body and face relaxed again and he burrowed closer into Loki, still asleep.

Loki kept scratching his back lightly, flushed with success. Since he had nothing to do this early, he decided to enjoy the moment and experience Tony sleeping soundly upon him. Maybe even rest his eyes a bit, and listen to Tony's soft, measured breathing.

Without realizing it, he dropped off again.

* * *

When Tony awoke, it was with the god's name on his lips, a warm feeling washing through him as he opened his eyes to see his lover. Oh. He was still resting on him, whoops. Tony hummed happily, hoping he hadn't drooled or anything, and, after doing a sleepy check, found that he'd managed not to. Double mental fist pump. "Mmmnnn... Loki?" he murmured sleepily.

No response. Loki was apparently dead to the world, but Tony could feel his warm breath through parted lips, so there was no worry there.

After a moment of sleepy thoughtlessness, the billionaire remembered something the god had said. He smirked and sidled up a little along Loki's body with another hushed, sing-songed, "Loookiiii?"

Still nothing. Man, the guy was out like a light. How cute.

Tony chuckled softly. With all the care of a man with a sleeping tiger, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Loki's.

Loki made a soft hum, but he didn't stir. Perfect.

Tony leaned in again after scanning Loki's slumbering face. He licked over the other man's lips, his tough feather-light. When that still drew no reaction, he slid his tongue past those sleeping lips and sucked gently on the god's upper lip, both arms cradled on either side of Loki's head for support.

Loki still did not stir.

'_That's so hot_,' Tony thought, biting his tongue. The recollection of what exactly Loki had given him permission to do turned his blood to boiling point, and a frisson of anticipation gave him goosebumps. The playboy smiled and wriggled his hips happily, the friction of his hardening cock on Loki's leg heavenly, and kissing a soft trail down along the god's neck, lifting his head gently to gain access, moving his ministrations lower, and then lower still. He kept the touches light, even when he reached Loki's inner thighs, leaving wet, sucking kisses between his legs.

Loki stirred a little, but not enough to wake. He merely twitched a little, his legs spreading minutely. His breathing had become slightly labored, and his pale cheeks dusted with pink.

Slowly, tentatively, Tony he lifted the god's penis and kissed experimentally over his balls, sucking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the wrinkly flesh.

His sleeping lover gave a sleep-heavy moan and a sigh that may or may not have been a garbled version of Tony's name.

Tony, thinking he was busted, paused, releasing Loki, and look up at his face to see if he was still slumbering.

Holy shit, _he was_. Loki's lips held a soft smile, even as he snored lightly, and he dreamed on, content to let whatever felt so good continue. His sleeping cock had begun getting hard at Tony's ministrations.

Just how much could Tony get away with before the Liesmith finally felt him?

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[CENSORED]

* * *

Tony's muscles felt like they were all made of pudding, and his elbow gave, making him drop back onto Loki's thighs.

Loki raised his legs and tilted his hips to bring Tony falling forward dazedly instead. He caught him before he came crashing down, nestling him in his arms, still groggy from sleep and amazing sex.

'_Busted!_' Tony thought, alarmed, gasping at the notion that he might be in trouble.

Then Loki kissed him on the cheek between heaves of his chest, his arms sliding on Tony's sweaty back as he hugged him tighter.

Fears quickly doused, Tony closed his eyes and chuckled, his body still thrumming with the afterglow (and, jeez, Loki did put the 'glow' in afterglow), nuzzling his face against Loki's as if it were the only right thing to do. His hands moved under Loki's neck, arms wrapping around the other in a light embrace.

They laid there awhile, slowly catching their breaths.

"T–that was lovely," Loki laughed after a moment, holding Tony affectionately and feeling his smile against his chest. "Simply delightful." He stroked Tony's sweaty back and kissed his face again, nuzzling the scruffy cheeks lovingly.

"How... how long have you been awake?" Tony asked with a laugh, face blushing bright red as though he might be a bit embarrassed. Odd, for the seasoned man. But then again, everything with Loki was so new. So refreshing. It was a breath of fresh air for the ever-insatiable playboy. He loved everything about the god. And he was considering saying just that when his lover cut him to the chase and spoke first.

"You are simply a wonder, Tony. I think I might love you." Loki couldn't even muster the anxiety to be nervous about what he had just admitted, sated and content as he was. He felt Tony's tense up and he grinned, squeezing his lover into a brief hug. "Just thought I should let you know," he murmured.

That made the billionaire's eyes fly open, his face an open book of surprise. An electric feeling zipped through his chest, a new and alien feeling as he stared right into those beautiful, emerald eyes and realized the same. Tony's mouth flapped a bit in befuddlement, truly moved. And it was true. This wasn't just some carnal kick. They weren't just fuck buddies trying to save the damn world anymore, were they?

It was more than that. Way more.

Tony opened his mouth again, shifting to sit up on his elbows and feeling the wet squelch of his seed spread between their bellies. It was a pleasant feeling, knowing he was seeping into Loki's skin, that he'd claimed the god for himself over and over. Then he frowned. "Loki..." he murmured, face falling as he carded his fingers through Loki's slick, slightly damp hair. He leaned down to peck at Loki's lips as if in apology. "Really, I'm glad you told me, but..." Tony left a pause to let his words sink in. "Sorry, but my heart's been taken already..." The billionaire shrugged.

Loki stopped breathing for a second, and he felt his heart break a little. He was struck speechless, not knowing how (or even _if_) he could take back what he had just said.

But then Tony revealed his little act. "I'm sorta seeing this sexy dictator, you see. I think I love him too," he admitted, finally allowing his smirk come to his mouth and waggled a brow, his joke finally resolving itself as he leaned down to take Loki's lips with more earnestness.

Loki evaded him, cuffing Tony lightly on the top of his head for even daring to think about not reciprocating his feelings. Then he bit his neck softly in retaliation.

"H–hah, ow!" Tony flinched in an exaggerated manner when the god lightly cuffed him, laughing as he did so.

Then Loki kissed him deeply, and mumbled, "I am quite sure this very sexy dictator loves you too," grinning fiercely.

Tony wiggled his hips in his excitement, glad to get that off of his chest and thrilled just to cuddle against his lover's body.

Abruptly, Loki slapped Tony's wiggling ass, laughing, "Cease that, you are not a puppy. I swear, if you had a tail, it would be wagging." He stroked Tony's bum, ostensibly to soothe whatever hurt he may have just given him, but really because he simply loved the feeling of its firm roundness against the palm of his hand.

Then, taking care not to give Tony any warning, he rolled them to the side, his cock slipping from Tony's warmth, and swung a leg around him, keeping him still as he tickled Tony's belly and sides, not done with his revenge. As he littered Tony's mouth and face with little kisses, something quite like happiness spreading in his chest at his mortal's delighted laughter.

"Whoashit!" Tony's laughter multiplied as he was thrown into a fit of graceless giggles. "H–hey! HEY! S–stop that, stop, hahahaha!" The naked man was unable to do anything but curl up and bat at the other's arms. His legs instinctively rose up to frame his lover's form above him.

Loki was a marvel to see, looming over him, his hair damp and unbridled framing his face, flushed with happiness.

Tony was almost tempted to try and get it up again, since apparently he could never get enough of the Trickster. Vaguely, he wondered if the others had heard him laugh through the walls. _Oops_. But it was hot, considering how naked they both were, Tony unable to help but run his eyes over the statuesque god, catching Loki's equally entranced gaze. Gods, he could just lay like this forever. Hm. That sounded like a line from a song. He grinned at his own cheesiness.

Loki watched him, besotted, and his attack turned into loving, soothing caresses again. "To answer your question, I woke up you when were riding me like a steed," he grinned, his cheek resting on Tony's arm. He brushed away some stray, sweaty locks from Tony's temple, and then his hand stayed there, lying soft and warm on Tony's prickly cheek, cupping the corner of his jaw.

"I'll have to practice my ninja skills, then," Tony quipped, mentally betting with himself that next time he could manage not to wake Loki until one of them had come. He moved his hands to smooth over the dictator's shoulders, caressing and touching wherever he could, lazily taking in every inch of the man's body beneath his palms. "Why didn't you let me know?"

Loki found he couldn't look away from Tony's warm, inviting eyes. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a lot." He gave Tony a small wistful smile, remembering Tony's cries of pleasure. "And I did not wish to cut your fun short."

Tony's face flushed at the god's admission, chuckling just as he remembered exactly how much _fun_ he'd been having. "What? What're you talking about, Babe?" the playboy laughed, pulling his head up to kiss Loki's forehead. "I would've had fun regardless. Still, I'm glad you liked the show," he winked.

The god got a sly look in his face. Stroking up Tony's hairy calf with one broad foot, he admitted, "Very much so. You looked quite lovely. Has anyone ever told you that _wrecked_ is a good look on you?" His eyes glittered with lust, making it clear just how much of an understatement that was.

Tony snorted. "I'm pretty sure you're the first to admit that." He slapped the other on the ass as payback.

Loki retaliated with a pinch to Tony's nipple, smiling widely and resting his forehead on Tony's, his eyes closed peacefully. "Really?" he murmured, his breath fanning over Tony's lips. "No one has taken the time to watch you work yourself to the brink of ecstasy and enjoy your expressions, your sounds?" His thumb stroked Tony's cheekbone sweetly, and he opened his eyes to look right into Tony's. "I swear on my magic that, after this _blackened_ war is over and we both have the time for it, I will steal you for myself and have my way with you, bringing you to the brink and over it again and again, for days on end, until you forget your own name."

Tony had no words for that. He didn't think he could remember how to breath, either, what with his brain being too busy processing that comment.

Loki sealed that promise with a kiss on Tony's lips, his tongue sneaking out to lick at the underside of his cupid's bow with the tip, and he pulled away from Tony with one last tweak to his nipple, this one soft and gentle and more of a roll of the nub between his fingers than an actual pinch. Loki smiled smugly at Tony's dazed expression and winked at him, before getting out of the bed altogether.

The mortal's eyes roved up and down his body, naked as the day he was born.

Stretching in the middle of the room to give Tony his own show, Loki hooked his finger at him in a _come hither_ motion and walked into the bathroom. He had absolutely zero intentions of having sex again when he issued the invitation, for he was sated like he hadn't been in a long while, but he had enjoyed the washing-each-other part of their last shower, and intended to have it again.

Tony found himself shivering with excitement at the prospect of what the end of the war would mean as he followed the god into the lavish bathroom. He was already numb with satisfaction, stepping into the room and moving to grab two towels to set for them after the shower.

Jarvis was lovely and turned the water on when they stepped into the room.

Loki paused at that, still marveling at having such a clever servant catering to his every whim, and doing it so damnably well. "Thank you, Jarvis," he said, smiling at the ceiling where he knew the light fixture contained a camera. It was the closest to looking Jarvis in the eye. "You spoil me. You are perfect and I do not deserve you," he continued with more affection than usual as he stepped into the hot shower. It seemed he already was at the rosy-colored stage of being in love, affection for everything simply pouring out of his voice. No going back, then.

"You are most welcome, Loki," Jarvis replied, sounding pleased with himself, "but it is Sir who doesn't deserve me."

Tony snorted, "Really? Are you hitting on my AI too? I think I should be jealous." It was a nice change of pace to see Loki so generally jovial. Hard to think that was the guy who had thrown him out a window, devastated Manhattan (or so he had assumed earlier during the fights), and locked him away to be forgotten. He paused, frowning for a moment as he watched the naked beauty slip in under the spray of water.

The blackened spirit of doubt threatened to return, like oil slicking over his heart for the briefest of moments. He'd already fallen too far, but what if things went wrong? What if the stragglers from the Avengers and the resistance decided not to cooperate? Or worse, attack Loki?

A pang of protectiveness grew over him, confusion snapping through his synapses. There was little doubt that Loki would not betray Tony, but should someone piss him off... How would Loki handle that? Especially if the one who did it was under Tony's roof? He couldn't bear to think he'd lock up his... Well, he supposed he could call them 'allies', maybe even friends if Tony Stark had any beyond Bruce and Rhodey. Tony scratched violently at his hair, the entire thing running through his mind in mere seconds, one train of thought leading into another, tangents upon tangents of scenarios playing out.

All of course before he realized he hadn't moved from his spot at the threshold and strode over to join his lover under the spray.

Loki received him eagerly, turning to him with the bottle of shampoo in his hand.

"Hey, uh, Lokes," Tony said, never one to keep his thoughts to himself. At least, not for long. He let Loki steal most of the water, settling for rubbing his palms over the dictator's sides. He hated to spoil the mood but... "What do you do with POWs, anyway?"

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 15th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"We should teach him to cook, after this is over," Bruce suggested in a low voice, taking over the making of the omelets, making Loki huff out a laugh. Out the corner of his eye, he caught Tony coming and going with dishes, cutlery and stuff. "Oh, and Tony!" he said, remembering suddenly, "make that seven places, Captain America is on his way up."_

_"Whoa, really? What the fuck, why didn't I hear about thi—" Tony complained, dishes and utensils in hand._

_As if on cue, the elevator dinged and a weary-looking Steve Rogers stepped out of it, carrying a beat-up brown leather travel back. The first thing he noticed was Tony, standing in the direct view of the elevator. When he walked towards him, as if in a daze, to check for himself if Tony really wasn't being mind-controlled, the kitchen suddenly came into view — more importantly, Loki did, and Steve froze._

* * *

**End notes:**

Wheee, more cut smut. I'm glad I cut it out. People have been complaining about it, so they can read the story at FFNET without worrying about finding it!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	20. Assurance

**Chapter Title:** Assurance

**Chapter Rating**: T.

**Chapter Length: **6k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings:** shared shower (no smut, but inappropiate touching and mention of *gasp* bodily parts).

**Chapter Summary: **Steve enters the weirdness that is life at Stark Tower.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

"Hey, uh, Lokes," Tony said, never one to keep his thoughts to himself. At least, not for long. He let Loki steal most of the water, settling for rubbing his palms over the dictator's sides. He hated to spoil the mood but... "What do you do with POWs, anyway?"

Loki frowned, sensing Tony's sudden seriousness but not understanding the question. What was a '_paus_'? "Apologies, I am not familiar with the word," he confessed, grabbing the shampoo and pouring a dollop straight onto Tony's head.

Right, abbreviations, of course. Tony remembered his species had a fondness for calling stuff by the initials of the words in their name. "Erm, P-O-Ws. Prisoners of war." He explained the concept.

Loki listened as he spread the shampoo around onto Tony's hair and massaged it into a lather. "If you mean Asgardians," he shrugged, unable to muster much interest in the subject but pretending to care for Tony's sake, even if the man couldn't see with the soapy foam dripping down his face, "we — _they_, I mean, generally keep them as slaves. They do not torture them or kill them, for it is seen as a dishonour, but nor do they let them go free afterwards. It is seen as a right of conquest, and whoever caught them owns them and their lands."

Tony hummed noncommittally, reaching blindly for the shampoo and gesturing that he wanted to wash Loki's hair.

Loki inclined his head for Tony, allowing it, closing his eyes at the pleasant touch and still stroking the nape of Tony's neck. "As for myself, it depends. I tend to kill my foes if I mean to win," he continued in a soft voice.

Understandably, Tony's hands ceased moving, still buried in Loki's hair. '_Kill_?'

Feeling how tense Tony was, Loki tensed a well. "If I capture someone alive, I keep them until I find use for them, as I did with you and Bruce. If I do not, I still keep them," he reassured quickly. "The conditions may not be the most pleasant, and I apologise for that, but I have thousands of rebellious mortals — those who tried to oppose my reign most violently — in my custody, or the custody of my people, and I plan on letting them all go. After."

Well, that was nice. Sorta. "Okay," Tony said, nodding, and got them both under the spray of water to rinse their heads.

Loki tossed his head back so the spray could rinse his face of foam, and then he pressed a finger gently under Tony's chin, tilting his face up and looking into his deep, unreadable brown eyes. "Rest assured, they have not been harmed other than the occasion of their arrest, if they resisted, and if they have, I provided them with medical attention. They may not have the best food or accommodations or entertainment," he offered with a wry smile, thinking back to Tony's cell and the bloody scribbles all over the walls that had been a brilliant mind's attempt to remain sane, "but they are well enough. Some of them have even joined my ranks, like Colonel Rhodes, and several others that are now integrated into the workforce, and they will be compensated for it."

He had no idea why Tony wished to know that, but there it was. He dearly hoped Tony wasn't entertaining second thoughts about entering a relationship with him — or, _Norns forbid_, thinking that sexual favours were in any way required of him. Loki's eyes widened in alarm, but then he recalled it had been Tony who had started showing signs of interest first, and who had accepted eagerly when offered a kiss.

Tony was seemingly absorbed in watching the water hit the tile. He was thankful for the explanation, mostly reassured. He remained quiet, pensive, gauging his lover's words and deciding they were true. He'd not been beaten nor punished, so his own suffering had been simply from neglect. It was terrible, but it was not the worst Loki could do, he was sure. After all, had he not seen the wrath upon the god's face when Fury had severely pissed him off?

"Is your curiosity sated?" Loki asked, distracting him, his thumb stroking Tony's lips transversally as he stepped away, before reaching for the soap and working up a lather in his hands. "Raise your arms then, Dear, your armpits reek," he said with a wink, scrubbing at them gently, carding his fingers through the hairs there.

Tony did so automatically, before shaking his head, bringing himself out of his stupor, and stealing the soap in one hand. While Loki washed under one arm, he decided to the run the soap bar over Loki's chest and shoulders, haphazardly trying to work up a lather before the water could rinse it all away. It was the best he could do with one hand and a preoccupied mind.

Loki knew him too well by now to think everything was okay. "What is eating at you, Lover?"

Tony blinked up at Loki through the warm water. "What about the Resistance?" he asked, passing the soap over to his other hand and lifting his arm for Loki's access. "What happens if they... you know. Resist?" he snorted, unable to help it. But the quick quip didn't last, Tony frowning as beads of water trickled over his face. "What happens if they don't do like we ask?"

Of course, Tony doubted they would say no, but there was also a good chance they still believed he was compromised or just plain crazy in the head. And until they had—

"Proof!" Tony exclaimed. "Do we have proof that there's, uh, this Thanos guy? That he's coming to town?" The billionaire seemed animated in his curiosity, deep brown eyes glowing as he stared up at the taller man. "I think if we can prove that there's something out to get us, maybe they'll fall in line a little more."

_Fall in line?_

Why the hell was he starting to sound like a dictator too?

Loki seemed to agree with that thought, laughing lightly and slapping Tony's shoulder gently in comradeship. "I see you are well on the way to becoming a monarch, Tony," he said, smiling, as he raised his arms and arched his back to invite Tony to wash further.

Tony couldn't exactly say no to _that_, could he?

"Alas," Loki continued, jumping slightly when Tony's hand stroked the side of his ribs — it tickled, "the only proof is in my head. I would have to show you a memory of mine, but, again, I fear you will have no proof I am not making that up too." He realised how lucky he was that Tony and Bruce had believed him just like that, just because he had said it. It was refreshing to be trusted again, and he stole a kiss from Tony, sipping up some drops of water from his beard, before grabbing the bottle of conditioner and upending it over his hand and pouring out a dollop.

Seeing that Loki had his head area covered, Tony knelt in front of him and began washing his genitals and legs. He still hadn't got over how Loki had no hair whatsoever, and he delighted himself in running his hands up and down his long legs.

Loki widened his stance to give him room. "So they would be entirely within their rights to _resist, _as you so charmingly put it," he winked, spreading the conditioner onto his hair, massaging the tresses gently. "If they do, then they are soldiers, and they shall be treated as such. If any are captured," he paused, thinking, and twirled his cream-heavy hair into a messy bun. "I suppose they shall be dealt with as they have already: those that are not killed in battle will be taken prisoner."

Tony loved how Loki could simply talk around him, leading him around like a dog on a leash. It was a frustratingly endearing feeling, to hang on every one of Loki's words and touches. He hitched a breath at the terms of retaliation for the resistance, but he supposed there was not much he could do if they did decide to choose the more suicidal route. He'd seen how willing Fury was, before, but he could only hope they didn't solely listen to the one-eyed pirate. He would lead them to ruin that way, and while Tony had not seen evidence and yet was convinced, he doubted the Director would be able to see clearly.

Pfft. See clearly. Get it? Tony snickered inwardly to himself for a moment.

"Hm, makes sense," Tony replied at last, getting to his feet again and burying his face in the crook of Loki's neck. He wanted to change the subject, the thought of his tentative friends getting killed for fighting for what they believed in made him uneasy.

After stroking his hands through Tony's hair, massaging the residue of conditioner into it to make it softer and wipe his hands at the same time, Loki knelt down to return the favour. He kissed Tony's soft cock affectionately, giving it a little push with a finger and making it swing, and then spread soap on it with gentle tugs, cupping Tony's hairy nuts with careful fingers.

Tony wished he could get hard again.

"They will always have the option of joining my cause, of course," Loki continued, looking up at Tony casually as he washed down his legs and feet, "but otherwise my people know to just throw them into cells and not do anything to them but feed them and care for their wounds." His hands stroked up the inside of Tony's legs, pushing into some of the bruises that were still there, and poked behind Tony's balls, where he was still slick with lube and Loki's cum.

His lover jumped, feeling as if he had just been zapped. "Loki..." he growled warningly, making no move to get away, his hands seeking Loki's face and wrapped hair since he could do nothing while Loki held his crotch hostage. The billionaire opened his mouth to say something about how much he loved Loki's hair up like that but it was forgotten when a wayward finger poked into him. "Nnn, hey," he chuckled, closing one eye in a half-wince.

"The most important question, however, is this," Loki grinned mischievously, ignoring him, one finger prodding its tip into Tony's abused asshole, "do you wish for me to clean you inside as well, and heal the soreness, or would you prefer to walk around with my seed inside you, marking you as mine, and feeling the echoes of the cock you fucked yourself on, my dear?"

Tony blinked at the question, eyes widening as he realized he'd meant to do that all of today regardless. Cheeks flushed at the thought of walking around with Loki still inside of him. "Leave it," Tony smirked. "But I'm gonna have to get you back at some point." He tugged on one of Loki's ears playfully.

Loki smiled at him, very pleased, and leaned forward to nuzzle the skin at Tony's hipbone, which was perfectly positioned so that the spray of water had washed away all traces of soap by now, and sucked a bruise there as his clever fingers spread the soapy foam around, cleaning the outside, and only the outside, of Tony's entrance. "Of course you will," he murmured against Tony's body, before standing up, parting from Tony with one last jiggle of his cock and balls. Then he undid the bun of hair and turned around, tilting his head back so Tony could help him rinse out the conditioner, and revelled in the quiet comfort of Tony's company, and, better yet, Tony's companionship.

"Did I ever tell you look good with your hair like that? Up, I mean," Tony laughed, finally getting it out now that he wasn't being immensely distracted by a certain god fiddling with his junk.

Loki smiled mysteriously, reserving judgement on that.

Soon enough, all traces of soap and conditioner were washed off, and Loki got out first, drying himself with magic as he always did. But this time, contrary to the morning of the previous day, he stayed behind and even fetched Tony's towel for him, holding it spread, for all appearances waiting for him to walk into it.

Tony moved to do so, reaching to the towel. "Oh, right, remind me I only need one towe—!"

Loki jumped him, enfolding it in the towel like a burrito and keeping it around Tony with a hug.

Tony didn't mind. He leaned into the embrace. Arms trapped as they were, he couldn't return the gesture easily, so he just pressed himself against Loki, burying his face into Loki's shoulder. It felt awfully sentimental but he didn't mind it at all. And he was reminded just how short he was, compared to the god again.

Loki melted into Tony. The water dripping from Tony rubbed off all over Loki, making him newly wet, but Loki couldn't care less, instead nuzzling the top of Tony's head and kissing his wet hair. "Tony, my dear mortal," he said softly, his hands stroking Tony's sides from around his chest, "if there is any particular action you would like me to take, or not take, against the Resistance, you might want to tell me now. I am in a generous mood, you should take advantage." He pulled back slightly to look down at Tony's face, letting him see the silly smile he was wearing, and watching Tony's reaction in return.

Tony couldn't help but smile. "Getting soft on me, huh?" Tony ventured to tease, nipping against the other's jaw just to play. "No, but really, I, uh. I'm just worried is all. I'm gonna do all I can to convince them to stay with us, but if they don't, I'm worried for their safety." He sighed and shrugged. No matter how aloof the billionaire was, he couldn't bear the thought of sending those he knew to an early grave. The glint in Tony's eye spoke of seriousness, Tony looking straight into Loki's eye. Just as he would do anything for his god, he would do anything in his power to protect those he thought worth protecting.

The alien overlord he was trying to convince merely nodded and held him tighter before taking half a step back, his hands still lingering on him.

"I still care whether or not they're mistreated, so if they don't..." Tony trailed off. "If it doesn't work out, I want them to stay here. I've actually got space below the Tower for them to live. I hate to say it was space made to hold villains, but I'd like them under my custody instead." His eyes widened at a sudden thought. "Not to say I think they'll do wrong but, well, you saw Fury. He's the only one I'm worried about. He always _did_ have an eye for me." A moment of silence before Tony snorted, face creasing with his laughs. "But seriously, I owe him too. He saved my life, the bastard."

"Then, in that case," Loki murmured, one of his hands pulling away from Tony's wait to cup his cheek, "I shall allow him to live." '_Until your debt is cleared. Then, we shall see_,' he continued in his head, but kept his dark thoughts to himself, instead choosing to pull away from Tony. Then, for good measure, he cuffed Tony up his head, trying to hold back a smile. "And if you ever accuse me of getting soft again, you shall see exactly how _hard_ I can be."

Tony's jaw dropped.

Loki winked at Tony and disappeared into the bedroom he was supposed to be sleeping in.

Thankfully, he became corporeal in his walk-in closet, or otherwise the Colonel, whom Loki only now remembered putting up in his assigned bedroom, would have received quite the eyeful. Loki really should move his wardrobe back into Tony's closet, and then maybe they could have fun dressing each other, as well as thoughts still sweet with the mental image of trying to force Tony into a tailored suit, maybe even convincing him with a blowjob, he tied his hair into a high ponytail and teleported out into the kitchen, intent on making breakfast.

Bruce, not surprisingly, was already up, but only just getting started on making the coffee. He greeted Loki with a raised eyebrow and commented, "I don't know what you did to Tony this morning, but I think I'm jealous," as he spooned coffee grounds into the coffeemaker.

Loki had to smirk. "He did that all by himself, if you must know," he said, the smugness obvious in his voice, as he got sausages and eggs and varied condiments from the fridge. "Tales of his prowess are not exaggerated, let me assure you," he added vaguely, getting started on omelettes and pancakes simultaneously.

Bruce snorted, and he was about to say something witty, but Jarvis's calm, British voice cut him off.

"Steve Rogers has just arrived on the premises, Loki."

He didn't add anything, but both of them could tell he was awaiting instructions.

Thinking it strange that Jarvis hadn't alerted Tony first, Loki and Bruce shared a glance, Loki also silently asking him for guidance.

Bruce shrugged, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the dining room, where all their meals were served.

Loki understood at once, and nodded at Bruce's suggestion approvingly. "Bring him over then, Jarvis. And please tell Agents Romanov and Barton that breakfast will be ready soon, should they wish to partake."

Just in case, Bruce added more coffee and more water, and Loki set to making even more pancakes, adding a pan for bacon and another to boil the sausages in.

* * *

Tony didn't take much time to get dressed into jeans and another band tee (this one of AC/DC's '75 Australian tour) over a long-sleeve. He stepped out to join the kitchen crew, figuring that, if the assassins weren't there, they'd join them on their own time. They were like a bunch of cats, you couldn't really control them. He didn't doubt even Fury had a hell of a time keeping tabs on them.

Thinking back, he was already pretty sure Natasha had kept his stolen Iron Man suit from him. He remembered the Director almost literally drooling over the thought of owning one of his suits and the tech that came with it. Good ol' Natasha; he had a soft spot for her too, considering he'd known her way before all of this Avengers nonsense (even if her report on him had been cruel). He owed her his life too.

Stark took the hallway and immediately realized just how hungry he was as the wave of smells hit him. Apparently the sex really took it out of him. Though most of his fears and doubts had been allayed about the god, that instinctual part of him that had been developed over three months of terrible and inconstant meals still nearly made him want to bolt for the food. He took a breath and chose to saunter into the kitchen instead. .

"Hey, guys," he grinned at the two, striding over to the god and slapping his ass lightly, making him jump.

Bruce rolled his eyes at Tony's casual abuse of Loki's ass, but, seeing that Loki didn't say anything or do anything but lean into it a bit and turning away to let Tony look at the stove, he didn't comment.

Tony quirked a brow as he looked up, flicking his hand through the ponytail much in the same way Loki had flicked him in the shower. Looks like he'd taken the compliment to heart. Tony couldn't help but smile lovingly at the thought. "And what's cookin' good lookin'?" he peered around his lover's shoulder and down at the sausages boiling in a pot. "Anything I can do to help? With my, uh, _awesome_ cooking skills?" he snorted, looking to Bruce. Might as well, considering he hadn't seen a lick of the assassins yet.

"Yeah, you can set the table." Bruce didn't trust Tony not to leave pieces of eggshell if they asked him to break a few eggs.

Smiling teasingly, Loki turned his head to the side and planted a kiss on Tony's cheek, and noticed he had forgotten to clear it of hair. Making a mental note to do it later, he added, "You can also wake Colonel Rhodes," he suggested, stirring the bacon so it wouldn't stick to the pan. "Ask him if he wishes to break his fast with anything in particular."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. That was more consideration than what he was offering Barton and Romanov. Either Loki actively liked Rhodes or he wanted to stay in his good graces, having found that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. He froze for maybe a second, remembering how Loki had made sure to cook for both him and Tony, feeding them marvels of cookery, and wondered if Loki didn't have an ulterior motive for that.

Who knew. Maybe he just wanted morale high in his soldiers, and the best way to raise moral was with tasty and abundant meals.

"We should teach him to cook, after this is over," Bruce suggested in a low voice, taking over the making of the omelettes, making Loki huff out a laugh. Out the corner of his eye, he caught Tony coming and going with dishes, cutlery and stuff. "Oh, and Tony!" he said, remembering suddenly, "make that seven places, Captain America is on his way up."

"Whoa, really?" Tony complained, dishes and utensils in hand. "What the fuck, why didn't I hear about thi—"

As if on cue, the elevator dinged and a weary-looking Steve Rogers stepped out of it, carrying a beat-up brown leather travel sack. The first thing he noticed was Tony, standing in the direct view of the elevator. When he walked towards him, as if in a daze, to check for himself if Tony really wasn't being mind-controlled, the kitchen suddenly came into view — more importantly, _Loki _did, and Steve froze.

Loki, who was dressed in suit pants and a shirt with the top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up, and _an apron_; Loki, who was slaving over something on the stove, so concentrated that he hadn't heard Steve come on.

And Banner next to him, helping him cook; with no fear of him at all, going by his body language.

"Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes, if Tony finishes setting the table," Loki said casually, without turning to look around, and slid the pancake on his pan onto a pile of cooked ones, before starting on the next. "You may drop your bag in the living room, Captain. You will be assigned a room later."

Steve merely gaped at him, his brain not quite believing his eyes.

Bruce, who hadn't noticed Steve coming in, turned to him with a shy smile. "Morning, Captain," he greeted, before mutely huddling closer to Loki to act as a human wall should Steve try anything. He scraped the bacon into a plate and got started on browning the boiled sausages.

"Wow. Well you flew over here like a bat outta hell, didn't ya?" the billionaire said as he laid out the last spot for the Captain at the table, plopping a fork and a knife on a napkin. Steve look absolutely dumbfounded, which only made Tony snort as he moved passed a cabinet lined with paper animals (apparently Bruce hadn't had the heart to throw all of Tony's creations away), heading back into the kitchen to grab glasses enough for the group.

"Good morning... Bruce, everyone. Ah..." Steve flapped his lips without a sound for a moment. "I'm really sorry. We'd thought you dead after the second month..." It looked as if he'd been waiting ages to say that, as if relieving himself of a guilty burden built up in the time past.

Tony slid around Steve and set the glasses down. "C'mon, a regular 'hello' works, Rogers," he grinned, trying not to think too terribly hard on the subject at hand. For once, he actually thanked his hunger for keeping him occupied from such thoughts.

"Captain Rogers. I've heard so much about you," Rhodey piped up, looking as if sleep had never touched him. He looked as bright and bushy-tailed and at attention as ever. The man saluted the American Icon out of habit

Steve simply nodded, having got used to such attentions in the last three months. "Colonel Rhodes." He turned and blinked towards Loki. In the _apron,_ he just couldn't get over that yet. "Who else do you have here? I have a report that Romanov and Barton are here as well?"

Loki paused in his busy pancake-making and bit the tip of his finger, a gesture that would have said '_let me see'_ if it weren't for the huge grin that spread his lips right afterwards. "They are indeed," he answered. "Which is why I expect Tony will be wanting some help in laying down the table," he added slyly, sneaking a sideways glance at Rogers before returning to his cooking.

Steve, paralyzed by that green almost-glare and that almost-order, could only nod. Resisting the urge to salute Loki — _what?! _— he turned around on the spot and marched out of the kitchen to drop his bag, as had been suggested by Loki, in the living room, before hiding in the dining room and waiting for Stark to bring the dishes.

"Cap, you are here!" Barton's voice said from behind him.

Steve turned around to see both Romanov and him entering the dining room, but said nothing, his face a mask of shock.

"Are you alright?" Barton asked, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes at him at the lack of response.

Steve, who still couldn't quite process it, pointed vaguely in the direction of the kitchen and said in an urgent whisper, "Loki is _wearing an apron_." The mind still boggled at that. Oh, yeah, and also, "And he appears to be cooking for us." He didn't seem too sure of what he was saying, so it came out sounding as a very confused question. He heard a snort from behind him and turned to see Colonel Rhodes carrying a bundled tablecloth, followed by Stark who had a very-I-know-something-you-don't look on his face.

"A regular housewife, he is," agreed Rhodes, apparently not worried at all for his own safety. "Tony sure struck gold; he may be a genius, but he can't cook worth a damn." Then he laid out the tablecloth and started laying the table with Tony.

Steve was still confused as a chameleon in a bag of skittles. He really couldn't process it. "But isn't he a self-proclaimed god and ruler of the world? Why is he cooking his own breakfast?" Instead of, say, having _them_ cook for him, and maybe also feed him?

"Because I am a strong, independent god who don't need no peasants?" Loki deadpanned in a pitch-perfect imitation of Tony's accent and speech pattern when he was being sarcastic, his expression slightly amused as he carried a platter of pancakes and another of perfectly browned sausages to the table.

Tony cackled at the voice imitation as he laid the plates down, passing half of his stack to Steve if just to give him something to do other than gawk. He was delighting in this though. It was sort of like a family reunion (psh, as if he knew what those were like), in which he was bringing over a girlfriend.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't an _exact_ analogy at all, but it only made Tony crack up more.

Loki tapped his chin, looking around speculatively at everyone. "Although, I suppose you are correct in one respect. From now on, I will expect us to take turns cooking, since we are now numerous enough, and not only for breakfast." He grinned happily at Tony. "Except you, of course. The Colonel has the right of it, you simply cannot cook, not yet at least. You shall be relegated to setting the table," he told him with a wink.

Of course, Tony had to grunt customarily at the 'no cooking' jab, which actually made everyone laugh or at least smirk. "Heeey. Now you're just picking on me," Tony stuck his tongue out and began to set the table with a little more dramatic movement, as if trying to show he would be the _best_ table-setter that ever lived.

Steve just snorted, though still reeling from the newness at all of this. It really wasn't at _all _what he had expected. (_And what were those bruises on their necks_?)

He had expected maybe Tony being tortured at the hands of a merciless god. He might've expected to infiltrate the Tower ad sneak in, with the assassins already planted to aid him. Perhaps there would've been a grandiose fight, ending with him tossed out of a window and using his shield to once again save himself from utter destruction.

He didn't expect... _this._

"—back me up here, Rogers!" Tony called, breaking him out of his reverie.

Steve blinked a 'what?'

"C'mon. You'd try my cooking right?"

The soldier wrinkled his face. "I don't know if my super soldier serum would be able to save me from your cooking, Stark."

That brought on another set of laughs and a huff from the billionaire.

"Come now, stop bothering him," Loki quipped, coming up behind Tony and hugging him around the waist with one arm, physically showing his support. "_I _will try your cooking, my dear, rest assured." He gave Tony a small peck on the temple, successfully silencing the entire room, and left to get the rest of the food.

Tony flushed a little, laughing as he saw the room was a little worse off than he was.

Rogers was red in the face and in his ears, unable to process all of this. He'd heard of Stark's... er... 'record' but this was unfathomable.

Loki passed Bruce on the way back to the kitchen as the man went to the dining room, carrying his own tray — with two carafes of coffee, a kettle of boiled water, tea bags, milk and sugar, to cater to everyone — and tossed him a smug wink.

Bruce came into the dining room to find everyone either blushing and looking away or gaping at Tony. He rolled his eyes. "Is he being domestic again?" he asked Tony in a hushed murmur that, of course, carried everywhere due to the silence. "Yeah, he does that sometimes," he told the Avengers and Rhodey, putting down the drinks and making himself some herbal tea to calm his nerves. He was unused to being around so many people, and the other guy got skittish.

Following his lead, Clint plopped down into a chair and poured himself some coffee, piling sugar into the mug. "Yep," he confirmed, "used to do it too, back when I was his _little warrior hawk_." He grimaced and chased down the bitter taste with a mouthful of coffee. "I used to think he did it to mock us, pretend we were a happy family," his eyebrows rose slightly in disbelief, "but I'm starting to think he meant it."

Natasha rested her hand on his shoulder, mutely offering him comfort.

The billionaire couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy when Clint spoke of being owned by Loki. Not that he _wanted_ to be owned by Loki, God forbid; but even so, Loki was his lover now. And Tony was a bit possessive of his things. Still, he said nothing, taking an educated guess that it was something of a sore subject.

Grabbing a sausage, Clint bit into it and closed his eyes as he chewed, moaning softly. "And everything he cooks is fucking golden, I swear." He patted the chair next to him, not looking at Tasha.

She sat down obligingly.

Bruce coughed slightly into his hand, clearing his throat, and caught Tony's amused eyes. "Actually, the sausages was me."

"Marry me," Clint said immediately, grinning at him. "Make me breakfast like this every day, I'll give you footrubs whenever you want."

Natasha flicked him on the temple, prompting a laughing _Ow!_ from him, and said tonelessly. "Don't listen to him. He can't do a good footrub to save his life." She stole Clint's sausage — ostensibly to fuck with him, but in truth it was because he had already eaten half of it and not dropped dead — and tried it for herself. Clint had been right. "Marry me instead," she offered, smirking, prompting laughter from everyone around.

Tony said nothing on it though, only poking and prodding Bruce and murmuring, "Looks like you've got two assassins after your ass," with a waggled brow. He took his seat at the table.

Loki returned from the kitchen with the rest of the food — bacon, scrambled eggs, omelettes, and, floating behind him, yoghurt and two boxes of cereal in case anyone wanted a less greasy start to the day — and sat down at the head of the table, of course. "Very well, sit down, everyone," he _suggested_ in a tone of voice that left no room for complaint.

No one seemed to give a damn about Loki having the head of the table, or about Tony being seated to his right. Steve was perhaps the most stiff out of the entire group (considering he was the newest and therefore the most traumatized of the bunch) but everyone seemed to mellow out.

Tony grabbed for anything of the meat kind, receiving an almost disapproving, motherly look from Bruce, and a nice cup of coffee as the party settled into a generally easy pace of conversation.

No one brought up the fact that Loki was acting more human than any of them ever expected, nor any accusation towards said god. They would handle business later, after dinner, since it seemed that everyone just needed a nice, peaceful moment in their lives. Everyone was more or less tired and stressed, worn out by the days of strife in a changed world (at least for the Avengers). Instead , they settled for exchanging stories, this time Steve telling stories of life in other countries and how he was _finally_ getting used to technology. About life with Fury and how Clint and Natasha had had to teach Steve how to use a computer and an iPod.

Tony laughed at that. My, how the world had changed.

Rhodey and the Captain had a pretty good time too, exchanging armies stories which sort of went over everyone's heads, and conversations broke off into little mini chats at that.

Tony took this time to steal food from the god's plate playfully, grinning as he clamped his teeth down on the fork with a 'clack', signalling he wasn't giving the stolen food back. Loki retaliated, not by taking food from Tony's plate — oh, no, he had learned his lesson well — but by cooing, "Oh, is my dearest mortal hungry?" and using his fork to feed Tony food from Loki's own plate.

Everyone laughed at Tony's resulting red face, but Loki only had eyes for him, feeding him gently and carefully, besotted by the way Tony accepted the food Loki was giving him. It was a bit symbolic— Tony had gone without proper food or caring interactions too long, and Loki was trying to make up for that. The others, bar perhaps Bruce, had no idea how meaningful it was that Loki was freely gifting Tony his food.

It was mushy and sentimental, but he didn't care. Tony deserved to be pampered.

When Tony started feeding him back, he winked at him and stopped trying to stuff scrambled eggs down his lover's gullet, sure that Tony, even though red-faced and slightly ashamed, had received the message loud and clear: you come first. They shared a ridiculously tender look — which nobody but Clint noticed, and he didn't call attention to it — and returned to their respective meals, smiling privately before they rejoined the discussions.

Loki brought up the subject of the Chitauri, and allowed them to discuss tactics while he read that morning's selection of news.

Again, like every morning, he questioned Jarvis's ability to discern what was relevant. Apparently he thought Loki should know that Europa, one of Jupiter's moons, had, for all practical purposes, gone missing, and that there had been a meteorite hitting Russia, and that there had been a discovery of huge swaths of algae suddenly growing near the South Pole that was apparently very poisonous to fish.

Whatever.

Everything seemed to be going to plan _for once in his life_, and when he left the mortals to their own devices because it was time to get to the office, no one batted an eyelid at him as he kissed Tony's forehead and teleported after saying his goodbyes.

Tony Stark was convinced he couldn't be more in love than he was right now, fluttering of unfamiliar feeling dancing in his gut as he watched Loki poof away. He was already pining for the god to return and that was never a good sign. He sighed at himself. "I'm a lost cause," he murmured, leaning on one arm.

Rhodey chucked a cereal piece at his cheek.

"Hey!" Tony laughed and playfully punched his best friend in the shoulder.

"I think I see now why Dr. Banner hasn't gone green quite yet," Rhodey quipped, grinning at Tony. "Unless one can count wanting to puke at your sweetness, _Honeybear_," he needled Tony, tossing a cornflake at him.

The playboy laughed and slapped the man on the back, before getting up to help with the clean-up. He made Steve do the dishes, since he hated dishes, and the Captain was just as much a pushover after eating as he was before.

The blond didn't complain, merely grabbing the rubber gloves and setting up camp at the sink.

Tony handed the dirty silverware to the Captain. "Lookin' good, Cap. Didn't expect to do dishes here, huh?" he chuckled.

The soldier gave him a raised eyebrow, but still did a better job of it than Tony would've. "Don't worry. Loki'll be back to talk shop, he's just off doing his dictator thing."

Steve frowned. "You say that so casually, Tony..."

That made the billionaire blink. "C'mon. You really don't think I'm that twisted, do you? I'm still me. I'd be trying to stop him if I thought he was doing the wrong thing."

"Would you?"

Tony blanched. "Yeah, of course." Though in his head, he wasn't sure now. Fuck. He was _completely_ compromised.

To sidestep the whole conversation (which was spiralling into awkward territory), Tony patted Steve on the back again and made to leave. "Anyway," he spoke up, "I'm gonna go see if I can't get to know what makes the Chitauri tick, in the meantime. I'll see you at dinner. If you're hungry around lunch, you can ask Jarv to order something for you and the assassins." He turned to yell out the kitchen door. "You too, Rhodey!"

With a mock salute and a laugh, Tony hooked his finger into Bruce's collar while he was timidly wiping off the table, the scientist uttering a small "Gah!" before following along.

Looks like they were off to the labs.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 18th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki unclenched his jaw. "Indeed. How long do you estimate we have until..." he trailed off, really not wanting to be the one to say it._

_"At the speed they are coming," Foster's voice was shaky, "perhaps three days at most. I-I think, maybe just two." Her voice got so thin with fear and grief that she had to shut up._

* * *

**End notes:**

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	21. Portents

**Chapter Title: **Portents

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **references to an alien autopsy.

**Chapter Summary:** People wanted proof that Thanos is coming? Well, now they have it. In spades.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Steve found agents Romanov and Barton in the training area, where he had guessed they would be. It wasn't really healthy to train heavily after a big breakfast, so they were just practising they marksmanship. Possibly to relieve stress.

"Come in, Cap," Barton said without turning around, shooting an arrow at a moving target. "I can practically hear you hovering in the doorway."

Having been about to knock on the doorframe to alert them of his presence. Before he had been deployed to the European section, they had lived together for several days, and they never reacted well when startled, so he had learned early on to announce his presence. Besides, it was only courteous. He didn't want to eavesdrop on his teammate's conversation, and they may have continued talking — if they had been talking in the first place — if they didn't know Steve was there.

"Right," he said, walking into the room.

Clint tossed him a pair of ear mufflers, and he put them on without question. Natasha started firing as soon as Clint gave her a thumbs up that Steve was wearing them, also a moving targets. She had become so good at mid range that all the bullets went through the same hole if she shot at stationary targets.

Steve watched her and Clint in silence, admiring their forms. They made shooting look easy, and more than that, they made it look beautiful. He wished he had brought his sketchpad, but it was still in the bottom of his travel bag, in Stark's living room. Eh, he would draw them later.

For now, though, it seemed that Natasha was finally calm enough to have a chat, and Clint and her took off the mufflers, walking to the fighting area and sitting down on the mats. Steve followed suit, leaving the mufflers with theirs, only he envied their stretchy uniforms — jeans pinched when he sat down next to them.

They looked at him expectantly. Sometimes it sucked, being the unnoficial leader of a team.

"Right, um," he started shyly. This wasn't tactics, it wasn't his strong point. This was personal details. "So. How are we feeling about Stark and Loki?" he asked, looking at Clint in particular.

The man shrugged, looking down, looking for all the world like a sullen child.

But Steve knew better — Clint only pretended to be childish when things were serious — so he waited until he had the words to express himself.

"Loki and I have an understanding," he said at last, peeking at Natasha through his lashes. "We keep out of each other's way, we pretend the whole mind-control thing didn't happen." He shrugged again, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his thigh. The was a pause, and then he looked up suddenly. "He apologized for that, did you know? Seemed genuine and everything."

Natasha nodded. "And when we got into a fight yesterday," she said, to Steve's shock, "he only roughed us up a little." She pointed to the bruise still prominent on her jaw. "Didn't kill us. I think..." she trailed off, tapping her chin. "I think he might actually like us."

Steve's eyebrows, still high on his forehead at the notion of Clint and Natasha having got into a scrap with Loki in the one say they had spent in his presence, shot even higher. He trusted Natasha's ability to read people, but then again, Loki wasn't something so plebeian as _people._ " ...What?"

Clint, however, didn't seem surprised. Instead, he nodded eagerly. "Yeah, it's true. He outright said it, that he liked me, and not just because I can shoot arrows at a hundred yards accurately." He gave them a bemused sideways smirk, as if not quite believing what he was about to say. "And I think I might like him as well."

The other two shot him urgent looks.

Cling shrugged. "No, really. I mean, I'll never forgive him for taking over my mind. But the magnificent bastard is _clever_, and wily as fuck." He took a deep breath and played with the hem of his sleeve. "He is the most affable villain we'll ever meet. And he respects Phil enough that he got him medical attention, instead of letting him just die."

"What?!"

That was Steve. He had only met Agent Coulson once, and he regretted not having signed the man's damn cards. He had seen how devastated everyone had been when Fury announced his death, and known Coulson had been a good man. That Loki had not only _not_ killed him, but actually helped him when he was no longer opposing him, spoke volumes of Loki's character.

Natasha nodded, not surprised. Clint had told her everything, and she had to admire Loki's guile in letting himself be burnt in order to start a conversation with Clint. She just knew it had been a ploy, but it was a masterful one, and Clint didn't need to know. "He is right," she said for Steve's benefit, "I asked Jarvis, that's Stark's artificial intelligence, to confirm, and he showed me timestamped pictures. He's still recovering, but well."

Steve blinked, processing that, and then laughed incredulously. "I completely misread Loki, didn't I?" he asked rhetorically, thinking of their confrontation in Stuttgart, of Loki's assurance that '_There are no men like me_,' of his press conference where he had admitted to playing the part of a villain to carry out his plan. "I see why Stark likes him. They are both peacocks."

That prompted a startled laugh out of both master assassins, and Steve joined in as well.

"There really is no spell there, huh?" he said after a moment of silence, still marvelling. "Even better, Loki seems to be completely besotted as well, from his display this morning."

"That is even better news," Natasha offered. "He has a real incentive not to let this supposed alien threat destroy Earth." That sobered them up. "If only there was any proof it was real."

"Oh, it's real," assured Clint, completely convinced. "I mean, I'm not sure I believe they really are coming here, but that they exists? Sure. Loki made me guard him when he meditated, and I think they were communicating with him telepathically."

"That sounds useful," Steve mused out loud.

"No, you should have seen him after. It always put a horrible strain on him." But, now that Clint thought about it, maybe it was because Loki had been fighting to keep his mind to himself as well. "And anyway, you saw the footage, right? Of when he first came in? He was tortured alright."

* * *

While the assassins and the captain caught up, Tony dragged Bruce and Rhodey down into the labs. Jarvis comically played them some jaunty elevator tunes.

When they arrived at their destination, Tony took a chair, sitting backwards onto it, and swiveled in his seat while he fished out his phone. Bruce and Rhodey moved to overlook the latest schematics while the billionaire did his thing. "One sec, guys," Tony held up a figure before firing off a text.

'_Hey, Babe. While you're out, could you pick up a Chitauri from the market on your way back? ;) Doing some research,'_ it said, Tony sending it off to the busy dictator before turning back to his comrades.

"Alright. Let's get you back your own suit. Treat her nice, will ya?" Tony said, leading his best friend towards the 'trophy room' where he kept all of the suits. He strode over to the familiar gunmetal grey and black suit.

Rhodey's eyes were already lighting up, his friend running his fingers appreciatively over the the glass. "Oh, Baby, I missed you."

"Hey, hey. No fingerprints," Tony slapped his hand away with a laugh and punched in the access codes for this particular suit. "Now, I made a few upgrades I think you'll like. Polish her up since last time you had a spin. You better love me for this, Rhody," Tony stuck out a tongue.

"Well I would if someone else didn't already," he joked, the two exchanging slaps on the back.

Bruce smiled from the sidelines, already preparing a few files to look over while the two buddies played around. The sooner they had a way to pinpoint and find out where the rest of the Chitauri horde was, the better for everyone. That way, they could prove Loki right in that there was indeed an invasion heading right their way; he was sure there had to be more than enough skeptics in the world as it was. There was only so much Loki's press conferences could do without a little bit of hard fact.

"Alright, you put that on, give her a test run. Just uh, don't break anything. And me and Bruce are gonna go do some nerdy stuff over here," Tony snapped and pointed. "Jarv, bring up everything we've got from the Manhattan fight. Chitauri, scepter, those chariots, the whole works."

"As you wish, Sir." The AI brought up everything, as requested. The entire room lit up with projections, data and scans, charts and graphs, holographic images and video footage.

Tony paused. "Oh..."

He nearly cringed at the sight of himself shooting up into the portal, hitching a ride on the missile. His blood ran cold with ice for a moment, panic gripping his heart. And he'd fallen (_and he was falling, falling, falling)_, there hadn't been anyone to catch him. He'd seen too much, he was just a man in a can.

_A man in a can. A man in a can. A man in a_—

"So what have we got here?"

Good old Bruce, breaking that ugly train of thought. Tony was sure he'd stopped breathing just then.

* * *

Loki spent his 'lunch break' in his office, with the lights turned off. A bit of quiet never went amiss, especially when his life was now surrounded by people clamoring for his attention or the happy chatter of reunited friends.

Sure, he was a statesman. Sure, he was a gracious host. But it wore on him like nothing else.

The humans had a word for it. _Introverted_. 'One that turns towards the inside.' He would rather curl up by the fireplace with a good book than watch a movie with his lover's friends as they teased each other and caught up and basically talked, talked, talked.

He longed for the time when this ordeal would be over and he could again remove himself from the spotlight, vanish into the shadows. Have some time for himself that didn't involve running a world, leading the war effort, and coming home to a place full to the brim of people.

He knew it was close, though; the war, at least, if not its end. He could feel it in his bones, on his skin. Thanos was close.

His phone vibrated on the table next to his plastic tray of salad and his plastic fork, and he picked it up curiously. A text from Tony, again. Ever since he had teleported a Chitauri drone onto his workbench, the stream of texts had been constant.

_'eugh, chitauri guts are SLIMY'_

_'really, baby, you are missing out on all the fun. it's like silly putty in here'_

_'it's kinda scary how much bruce is into this. we might have to watch out for him. haha'_

_'is the tiny brain the standard or did you get this one from the discount pile?'_

_'ooh, it emits and receives wifi! what do you wanna bet i can hack it?'_

_'the mental firewall is awesome. microsoft could take lessons'_

_'finally hacked it! what do i win? wink wink nudge nudge'_

_'btw, returned the suit to rhodey, he must be close by now'_

He _wouldn't stop_. Loki was half-amazed, half-annoyed. He could feel a headache building, the stress becoming too much — he needed a massage and a cup of tea. And for Thanos to suddenly drop out from existence. That would be nice too.

He supposed it was a bit endearing, this dependence Tony had on him, how he felt the need to share his every thought with Loki. It could have gone the other way, with Tony avoiding telling him his opinions out of an anxious fear Loki would stop caring for him for it. But he sort of missed the time when Tony only had a crush on him — that had been, what, two days ago?

Wow. Felt longer.

Sighing, Loki replied to Tony's latest two texts with, 'I know not, what do you want?' and 'Clever man. It will be great publicity,' before returning to his tasteless salad. He would be meeting with factory representatives, to talk yet again about how no, they didn't get the complete designs for the Framrherrlae or the Aegis, and yes, it was in their best interests to simply man up and produce them like crazy.

The impetus his short press conference had gathered seemed to have vanished, and the mortals yet again were restless, doubting if Loki, the legendary liar, had actually told them the truth.

He sighed again, deciding he wasn't hungry anymore, and tossed the salad into the bin. He got up, stretched his limbs, and got back to organising everything. He couldn't wait to go home again.

* * *

The kitchen duty was all the Avengers, minus Tony. He didn't want to touch that, only goading Steve, Bruce, and the assassins into beginning preparing a meal for when Loki would return home. All the while, he sat with his ass on the kitchen island and plucked away on his StarkPad, working through their findings on the Chitauri and looking like general deadweight. Everyone just danced around him and did this and that (Tony really wasn't looking beyond his screen), with the occasional Dr. Banner tutting at him.

But hey! He really _was_ doing things, he was working!

And their findings had been spectacular despite the mess. After all of that, surprisingly, Tony was hungry for burgers or something. As for what the Avengers were cooking though, that was out of his hands. He just apparently supplied the stuff to make the food with his big bucks.

Wow. All they were missing now was Thor in an apron.

Oh, yeah. _Thor._

Tony had to wonder where the big guy was now. All before a sudden shock of fear ran through his spine. Was he off in Viking Land? The billionaire worried he'd return pissed at everything Loki was doing (for some reason) and take him away, far beyond his reach. Even worse, he feared what they might do to the Trickster when he went home for a spanking.

Fuck okay, don't concentrate on that. He wanted to prepare some things to show Loki when he came home.

* * *

If one more person called Loki demanding proof of the existence of the alien threat, Loki would personally teleport to his or her location, butcher them, cook them in a really unhealthy way — maybe deep fried in butter — and feed them to their family.

He hung up the phone for the upteemth time, grumbling. Well, 'hung' might be an understatement, seeing how the receiver splintered in his hand. But it wasn't broken enough to stop it from ringing the second he put it down.

He glared at it, trying to decide if he should answer it or not. The amount of people that had this number was staggering — normally his secretary received the calls and transferred them to him, but apparently telling her to block all calls concerning questions about the validity of his claim didn't work when people could simply circumvent her. Excellent.

Sighing, he picked up.

"Sir, I have a Jane Foster on the line," came the wonderful, wonderful voice of his secretary.

His gamble had paid off, after all. "Transfer her," he said at once, eager for news about the state of hr research. "Miss Foster, hello!" he greeted amiable, finally in a genuine good mood.

"Cut the pleasantries, Loki," she answered in a no-nonsense tone. "We aren't friends, we tolerate each other at best," she reminded him.

Yes. This one was fierce. Now that he knew her, Loki could see how an idiot like Thor would like her; he had always been a glutton for punishment. "Very well, wench," he said, dropping the friendly tone in favour of a colder one. He genuinely liked her, but if she wanted not to get along with him, he was hardly going to disappoint. "Have you have news? Have you managed to recreate the Bifrost?"

"We are close," she answered, equally brusquely. "Give it two more days. But that's the problem, we don't have that much time."

Loki noticed he didn't correct his vernacular, telling him to call them 'Einstein-Rosen Bridge' or whatever nonsense term the mortals had come up with. It meant this really was an urgent matter, and she had no time for trivialities. "Explain." He sat forward in his chair, listening attentively.

"My team had observed a series of anomalies over the last two weeks," she stated, curt and businesslike. "A hole appeared the Oort cloud, whole clusters of bodies disappearing overnight. Then at the Kupler belt, the same strange disappearances. Pluto is off course, it's trajectory conclusive with an impact. Uranus and Neptune are elsewhere, so we have no data based on them, but the line of anomalies is clear. There is more."

Loki felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. He swallowed, recognising she was expecting an answer, and said, his voice small, "Yes. I remember reading that the storms in Saturn ceased momentarily, that was four days ago. And a missing moon on Jupiter, this morning." He didn't say any more, didn't want to confront the obvious, but he knew Foster could extrapolate. She wasn't stupid.

"Indeed. It was yesterday at noon when we found out, the newspapers only published it today." Her voice was shaking slightly. "Europa had water. And Saturn's storms are the biggest and most powerful in the Sol system. Some of them had lasted for entire centuries—" she choked, and was unable to continue. She took a few deep breaths. "Good sources of energy and water," she breathed.

Loki unclenched his jaw. "Indeed. How long do you estimate we have until..." he trailed off, _really _not wanting to be the one to say it.

"At the speed they are coming," her voice was shaky, "perhaps three days at most. I-I think, maybe just two." Her voice got so thin with fear and grief that she had to shut up.

But Loki knew what she was thinking. They _weren't ready_. At all. Mortals were fighting each other, disagreeing on everything; the weapons had barely begun construction, let alone assemblage and distribution; the shelters weren't ready.

They needed Thor's help. The help of his army. But they had no way to reach him.

Loki ran his fingers through his hair, gulping audible. "I confess I thought we had more time," he admitted, feeling defeated already. He sighed. "What is the main issue with the Einstein-Rosen bridges? Maybe I can help."

Maybe he could use the Tesseract to build another portal, long enough for Thor and his Einherjar to come through. It would leave their planet undefended for a precious few minutes, but it would be worth it.

"They are unstable," Foster answered, her voice a lot calmer now that she talked about what she knew best. "We need a better source of energy."

"I could lend you the Tesseract, but Stark requires it for the defensive system he has devised. Would an arc reactor suffice?" he asked.

She laughed in relief. "Yes, God yes. Thank you." She sniffled, and she sounded like she was crying.

Loki suddenly remembered the rocket Stark had delivered into the wormhole and stood up. "Miss Foster, a pleasure doing business with you. I will hand over your arc reactor tomorrow morning — I am afraid I must hang up now. There is someone I need to telephone. Please send me your data so I might make a statement."

He slammed down the receiver and all but ran out of the office. He hoped his little wonder team was still about. He needed to make a press conference, summon the leaders of the countries with nuclear weapons, every single manager of a space program, and get home in time for dinner.

* * *

Just as Tony said he was setting the table, Jarvis's voice chimed through the kitchen.

"Master Loki wants you to know he won't be coming home in time for dinner," he said in the ubiquitous British butler voice Tony had installed in him.

The Avengers, most of them, had only been there two days, but already they had guessed that Loki was almost religious about his meals.

Clint, Steve and Bruce, in the kitchen, shared a look. Bruce was the one to ask, "Did something happen Jarvis?"

"I don't know details, Dr. Banner, but indeed, some new information has come up." The was a pause, and then Jarvis continued, sounding slightly uncertain. "I believe you will hear about it soon enough. He is readying a press conference."

Natasha came into the kitchen at that moment, wanting to share time with her team even though she didn't have stove duty.

"Press conference?" Steve chimed, rolling up the first few wraps as they were passed down the makeshift Avengers assembly line.

What the specifics of it could be about, the soldier could only guess, only hoping that it was good news. Or perhaps he knew when the invaders from space (that really sounded like a movie from his time, with tin-buckets on heads and paper mache models and everything) were going to arrive. All he could do was guess.

Natasha came into the kitchen at that moment, wanting to share time with her team even though she didn't have stove duty. "You know what this means, right?" she asked, thinking of the implications as well. Had Loki finally found proof?

"Yeah," Clint answered at once, but he was grinning. "It means we can eat in the living room, watching TV."

Natasha swatted at him, but he avoided it deftly, retaliating by tossing a bit of chopped cabbage at her.

"Hey, hey, what's all this ruckus in here, you kiddies?!" Tony crooned in an 'old-man' voice, before breaking into laughter. Like an addict, he was setting the table with his Starkpad never leaving his hand, like it was melted to it. He grabbed another set of plates, balanced over the poor, abused device and a couple of utensils.

"I guess you already heard about the press conference?" the billionaire chuckled, sidestepping Natasha when Clint yelled his name. "That's my name, don't wear it out," he winked.

"Stark, Stark, stop!" Cling yelled, from under Tasha's headlock, "don't set the table. We can eat like _normal people _now!"

Steve sighed. "Normal people eat at the table," he murmured under his breath, looking skywards, and Bruce chuckled silently.

"Wait, whaaat?" Tony frowned. "I was already making it all nice!" he grunted. Like it was hard work.

Clint got out of Natasha's hold and stared at him with puppy eyes. "Tony, Tony. Are you gonna pass up the chance to watch a movie while we eat Bruce's awesome wraps? _Sitting on your very comfy couches_? Look, they are _wraps_, they were born to be eaten with hands!"

"Awh. Well, I mean, that _is_ tempting. Shit, I should just leave the damn table set for the next dinner," he grunted, moving to ironically put the plates and the silverware back where he found them. Tony had never been good with the upkeep of his kitchen, but now that it had actually _food _and _things_ in it, he found it was rather nice keeping it in order.

Or maybe Loki was just rubbing off on him.

"I take it we're eating in the living room then," Steve sighed, shaking his head fondly. He actually liked the small breaches of protocol; it showed just how comfortable they were with each other, even though they had worked together the once and had only been reunited that morning.

Bruce made another wrap and mumbled, "... Feeling a little like Matilda here," low enough that only Steve could hear him.

Steve, of course, didn't get the reference, but he was used to that.

"Fine, fine. I'll, uhh... Hm." Tony pondered before grabbing a bunch of glasses for everyone, counting them out and then... setting them on the island. "Ahahaha, look. I set everything I need to set," he cackled, moving to sit on the island next to them again and wait for the wraps to finish being... wrapped. Tony prefered to pluck around on his StarkPad anyway. "Turn the channel on for us, Jarv," Tony said, looking up and over as Steve wrapped another and Clint scooped the last bits of the final wrap onto the warmed tortilla.

"Would you rather I put on a movie, Sir?" Jarvis asked. "The conference will start in nearly an hour, but I can record it for you."

Clint nodded eagerly, putting the last finished wrap onto the platter. "Yeah, yeah, let's do that!" He took it upon himself to carry the wraps to the living room, looking behind himself and then, when he saw they weren't coming, yelling. "Come _on_, guys, get your asses here. And bring napkins!"

Steve and Natasha shared a look, shrugged, and followed after him. Steve grabbed a case of beer and a bottle of Coke, and Bruce grabbed the napkins and Tony, bringing him to the living room.

While they decided on a movie to watch, Jarvis put on the news to entertain the ones who didn't care about the decision — everyone but Clint and Tony.

"—thank you, John, for the weather. Now, turning to something a little more jarring: Health officials are reporting a rise in what appears to be smallpox. Of course, the health departments are still trying to confirm whether or not this budding outbreak really _is_ the real deal, but several cases have already been reported in Italy, Austria, France, and Switzerland," came from the TV, the woman's voice making it sound very serious despite the vapid smile on her face. "A surprising shock as two cases of death have already been reported in Bordeaux, both of them sadly children, no more than ten."

The screen changed to some rather horrific images of those who'd suffered smaller bouts of the virus back in 1977, to which Tony quickly had Jarvis change the channel in order to preserve everyone's appetites.

Bruce perked up at that. "Did she say _smallpox_?" he asked, incredulously, and the way he said it made all conversation in the room ground to a halt. "There has been an outbreak. Of _smallpox_," he said, sounding extremely dubious.

"Yes, in France at least," Steve said, confused. "We found a homeless girl who had it, and brought her to the hospital, but it was too late. One of the soldiers in my cell caught it, they put him in quarantine," he shrugged. "The girl didn't make it."

Everyone turned to look at him agape.

"And you didn't think to tell us?" Bruce asked, appalled.

"Um," he started, "what is the big deal? Smallpox is common, why are they reporting it on the news?"

Bruce slapped his forehead. "Right, of course you wouldn't know." He cleared his throat. "Look, you were asleep for a long time, Steve. We started a vaccine campaign, eradicated it in 1979."

Steve didn't quite get it. "Yes, but it can still infect someone, vaccine or no vaccine," he defended.

"No." Surprisingly, this was Natasha. "We killed the virus. Dead, kaput. Extinction. Like it never existed."

Steve inhaled sharply. He had just found out the one thing about the future that made it seem better than the thirties. "...Like it never existed..." he parroted faintly. "That is _amazing_." Then he frowned. "Wait, then..."

"Yep. Somehow, it's back," Tony made a face. It was in Europe, sure, but still. That was pretty surreal. Zombie Chitauri, zombie viruses. What next? Did it have something to do with the arrival of this Thanos guy? And if so, the question was _how_.

"It's weird," Natasha offered. "Strange things have been happening lately." She leaned over and grabbed a wrap, and apparently that was the cue everyone needed to remember there was food. "A meteorite hit the Motherland yesterday. Started a forest fire."

Clint nodded. "Yes, and the earthquakes in Brazil, nowhere near a fault line. Heard some guys talking about it in the mess hall." He bit off a huge chunk of wrap, nearly stuffing half into his face. "Everyone agreed it was a hoax."

"I read something this morning in the papers about poisonous algae growth in both the Atlantic _and _Pacific," Bruce said around his wrap, looking at it as if trying to find a way approach putting in his mouth, buying himself time to speak. "Scores of dead fish just floating in the ocean," he sighed, sounding sad.

That made Tony blink and look down at his wrap, making a face at it. There was a small paranoia about whether or not the fish in their wraps was contaminated but that was silly, right?

"They think it might be something evolved from the hydrothermal vents but I'm not so sure. Not with everything else that's been happening lately," the scientist frowned.

"So uh. I guess it's not too late to mention the weird request Pepper got from one of our staff over in Japan," he said, pausing for effect before continuing. "They filed for medical coverage for their children. Born with webbed feet, I think she told me. And extra limbs," he said, trying not to be rude about it. But hey, they were sharing and caring, he had to add his own story.

"The weird thing was, they had_ monozygotic_ _triplets._ All of them had different birth defects."

Clint had an inkling. A terrible, dreadful inkling. "Jarvis," he said, serious, "has anything else weird happened?"

There was a silence — probably the AI processing what was 'weird' and what wasn't — before Jarvis answered. "There have been reports of statistically abnormal occurrences, yes. There has not been a single bee registered in North and South America in the past week, and crops that rely on them have missed their time to pollinate."

A dramatic pause — wow, Stark's AI was capable of dramatic pauses, who would have thought? — and then Jarvis continued.

"There have also been reports of strong hurricanes over the Sahara region, resulting in flood. In the days since, a greater presence of flies and mosquitoes has been recorded. Over ten times as many. And there is more to the mutations in Japan: _all_ offspring born on that day, human and nonhuman, suffer some kind of congenital affliction, ranging from hirsutism to albinism to forms of hermaphroditism."

They were stunned.

"Um, Jarvis? How far back do these _anomalies_ go?" Bruce asked, aghast.

A pause. Then, "The earlier recorded happened precisely twenty nine days ago. A flock of _Philomachus Pugnax_, more commonly known as Ruff, was found flying to Australia. At this time of the year, they should be in Northern Russia. Experts chalked it up to solar flares, claiming the electromagnetic interference disoriented them."

The opinion was unanimous. _Well, fuck._

At least Clint, Steve and Natasha wouldn't need any more proof.

And then Loki came on the television, and talked of _astronomical_ anomalies. He had the research to back it up, too, publicly available on the internet (Bruce hurried to download it) for anyone who didn't believe him. then he called for cooperation and hard work and that the _alien threat_'s ETA was less than three days.

Well, fuck, indeed.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 22nd of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_They walked to the kitchen, where Loki got out his food and put it in the microwave. While it heated up, he got a glass of ice and filled it with Coke. Belatedly, he remembered he had a guest, and handed it to Rogers, fixing another for himself._

_"Thank you," the mortal replied politely. Automatically, really._

_Loki wondered if manners had been ingrained in him at a young age. "You are welcome." The microwave pinged and he retrieved his food. Grabbing his glass, he took his meal to the island counter and sat on a stool. "You asked me before if our situation is as dire as I made it sound," he said, taking a piece of fish from one of the wraps that had come apart and bringing it to his mouth. It was a question, really._

* * *

**End notes:**

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	22. Home Front

**Chapter Title:** Home Front

**Chapter Rating**: K+.

**Chapter Length: **4k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki takes a minute to bond with Captain America, and then goes to visit Tony in the lab.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Press conferences always killed Loki, but on top of that he had had a private conference with several very easily provoked people, begging them to let him use their 'nukes'. Then he had teleported into the Tower, asked Jarvis to use an arc reactor, popped over to Foster's team — startling everyone, to his amusement — and told her he also needed a short wormhole that came out in the whereabouts of the fleet to fire the missiles through. _Then,_ he had made clones of himself and teleported them into every major Stark Industries factory, spurring the employees into action with the assembly of the Frarmherrlae.

It was three hours after the press conference that Loki finally teleported to Stark tower and dropped on the couch, utterly _exhausted_. He had his hand over his face, pressing into his eyes to try to relieve the pressure, when he heard someone shuffle in. Assuming it was Tony, he said, tiredly, "I stole one of your arc reactors earlier. Hope you don't mind. Gave it to Jane Foster."

"You stole it?" Steve's voice, surprisingly, not Tony's."

Loki's eyes flew open and he looked at the Captain warily, having been caught off-guard.

Steve didn't seem to notice, continuing, "That's an interesting way to put it, considering you live here."

The Captain had left the kitchen when he saw the dictator sprawled out on the couch and looking wearier than some of the men in his bunkers. He looked absolutely haggard, and Steve had still yet to decide whether or not he felt pity for the man who claimed to be a god; after all, he'd just spent whole months training himself and his troops for conflict against Loki. But the assassins seemed to respect him (hell, Clint _liked_ him), so it was a bit of a conflict for himself.

Loki still looked like a startled cat, about to either flee or lash out at any second. "The technology remains Tony's domain," he said tightly, wondering if he was being tested.

"I see," Steve answered, trying to sound congenial. "Long day, huh?" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards the kitchen. "There's leftovers in the fridge; Tony made it adamant that we saved some for you. Baja fish wraps, I think they were. We looked up a recipe." Tony had said Loki liked fish so...

Rogers was talking to him, willingly, and of his own volition? Loki must really have done something right. He gave the super soldier a bemused smile, relaxing a bit. "Thank you for saving me some dinner. I had not realised how hungry I was until you mentioned food." He stretched his arm in front of him, pointing in Roger's direction, silently requesting a hand up.

It was more a test that any real need to be helped.

He was pleasantly surprised when the captain grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him up.

"Want some company?" the man asked, surprising Loki even further.

"It would be appreciated, yes," Loki answered, thinking the mortal was either very conniving or a guileless puppy, like Thor. The blond hair and blue eyes made Loki lean towards the latter, but one could never trust looks.

They walked to the kitchen in awkward silence.

Loki got out his food and put it in the microwave. While it heated up, he got a glass of ice and filled it with Coke. Belatedly, he remembered he had a guest, and handed it to Rogers, fixing another for himself.

"Thank you," the mortal replied politely. Automatically, really. He didn't sip it.

Loki wondered if manners had been ingrained in him at a young age. "You are welcome."

More awkward silence followed, before the microwave _ping_ed.

Loki retrieved his food without making any comment, contrary to what he would have done if Rogers had been Tony or Bruce. Grabbing his glass, he took his meal to the island counter and sat on a stool. "You wished to speak to me?" he asked taking a piece of fish from one of the wraps that had come apart and bringing it to his mouth. For Rogers had no other reason to seek him out.

Steve, feeling mightily uncomfortable — he still didn't _get_ Loki, and the green stare that could see through him made him nervous, as though he had something to hide and Loki was looking for it — coughed slightly into his fist. In a way, yes, he wanted to know the truth, but he had only sought Loki out because he was curious. Trust Loki to read ulterior motives into everything everyone did, however innocent.

Loki arched an eyebrow at his silence. "You may speak your mind," he said, taking a delicate bite from the wrap. He could tell Bruce had cooked this, and he smiled internally.

"Everything's looking a bit dour, if anything's to be believed from your press conference," Steve said at last. Things really didn't bode well, especially if they had so little time.

Swallowing, Loki grinned at Rogers predatorily. "Oh, trust me. It is a lot worse. I kept it simple so the masses would not fall to panic and destroy everything I have built. Why do you ask?" Still grinning coldly, he took another bite, this time concentrating on the taste. He wondered who had cooked this — it was nice, but soggy. He wondered why ever he had thought microwaving something wrapped in bread was a good idea.

Steve was uncomfortable. Loki was alternating between pinning him with his eyes and completely ignoring him, and it unnerved him. And his _words_... "Is there anything we can do to help? SHIELD, I mean," he clarified quickly, conscious that Stark and Banner were already helping. He felt pretty useless with this whole situation. Warfare on this scale was not what he had been trained for. The actions of a single man could no longer affect the outcome, unless that single man was Loki, organising the war effort, or Tony, designing and building guns that shot _light_ and a shield that no one could see.

There would be no one-on-one combat, if things went to plan. No one manning the guns. Humanity's only way of fighting was to prepare and hope their fort held when the enemy came, because the second the aliens were close enough for actual fighting, the war was lost.

Still. "I can rally whatever forces the Resistance has," Steve explained. "Of course, there's the problem with Fury, he's still sore from being manhandled, but I've got men under me stationed around the world. They're all just waiting for my word." It was strange to be offering up everything to the god, but everyone seemed to believe in the dictator, full-heartedly. It would be a leap of faith for the soldier, if anything.

Loki ceased chewing, watching Rogers with interest. How quaint, Rogers really wanted to make a difference, as if his handful of puny men all over the world could _do_ anything.

_All over the world._

Oh.

Loki set down his wrap and looked speculatively at Rogers. "Actually," he said, his eyes bright with calculation, "yes, there is something you can do. You have agents all over the globe, correct?"

Steve nodded, not quite following where Loki was going with this.

"Well," Loki continued, "I am in dire need of trustworthy and resourceful people to distribute and mount the Framrherrlae." And he could think of yet another use for Rogers's people: crowd control. "Once that is done, I will need a unified, well communicated network to escort people to the shelters and play nanny to them." He was only too aware of the savagery of people during wartime. Sacking, raping, pillaging... The possibilities were endless to people who found themselves suddenly in a lawless place and with nothing to lose.

Relieved, Steve smiled and drunk some of the Coke. "I'll see what I can do. I expect you'll be needing SHIELD resources to move everything. Helicopters, planes—"

"Missiles," Loki cut him off. SHIELD had missiles; probably a good deal more powerful than anything the rest of the world had to offer. "It will be a good backup plan," he twirled a lock of hair thoughtfully. "Our very own self-destruct button, on a global scale. Just in case our plan fails and nothing else can destroy Thanos."

Steve swallowed, paling. "Let us hope it doesn't come to that." He raised his glass of ice and Coke in a toast. "To winning?"

Loki grabbed his own glass, amused, and clinked it against Rogers's. "And to bringing them down with us if we lose."

* * *

Tony and Bruce were still beasting through everything, moving through their work and still feeling as though everything in the world still needed to be done. It was late, and Tony worried Loki wouldn't be coming home at all tonight.

Jeez, when had he gotten so attached?

Tony was in the process of trying to convince himself he wasn't really looking _that_ forward to seeing Loki, all the while checking up on his updates from Jarvis. "So, where are we at with that suit, Jarv? I wanna dance around in it before I finish my fifteenth cup of coffee," he warned playfully. He'd been working on a few side things with the Framrherrlae and the Aegis schematics done, letting Jarvis take the reins for his newest creation while he worked on miniature prototypes for the planetary defense weapons.

"The revisited Mark 39, Gemini, is currently 95.9 percent completed and is in the painting stage of the process," his mechanical butler quipped.

"Alright, lemme know when it's done," Tony said before turning back to Bruce, who was still looking over samples of the Chitauri under a microscope, the device sending a feed to a bigger holographic monitor so Tony could look over the same thing without being in the man's space.

"Take a look at this," Bruce hummed, his eye still stuck to the lens. On the screen, Bruce casually poked at the Chitauri's skin cells, damaging one. Immediately, a few other healthier cells began to surround it, moving to repair what had been harmed. "On a cellular level, it looks like they're capable of some biological regeneration."

Tony blinked, lowering the small Framrherrlae gun sitting like small paperweight in his palm, a wrench in the other. He looked to the screen, saw tissue repairing itself. "Wait, fuck. Are you saying it can fix itself? Or rise again like a damn zombie?" He gulped.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think it's possible to that extent. Any severe trauma, I think, would still render them incapacitated. But smaller wounds, probably even fractures, might be able to self-heal if given enough time without interruption."

"So let's just make sure we shoot 'em dead. They won't get that time," Tony chuckled, spying the body kept on ice to slow the deterioration. That was all Bruce's now, considering he was better suited to studying and researching what they needed from the specimen. It was Tony's job to build the things to best kill them dead. He furrowed his brows, going back to tinkering, the little Framrherrlae gun swivelling around when it wasn't being adjusted (and he'd already taken to naming it 'Frannie').

"Paint stage 98.8 percent complete, Sir. Preparing the prototype Mark 39 for deployment in five minutes."

Tony drummed a little tune on what was essentially a tiny turret in his hand, spinning in his chair before standing and stretching. He had never really been good at sitting still. "Jarv, where's Loki?" he finally asked, his nerves getting to him. At least he'd know when to start prepping everything. It _was_ getting a bit late though, maybe he could always try for tomorrow.

"Loki has been here for about an hour now, Sir."

That made Tony sputter on the coffee he'd just been about to drink. He coughed, making a mess that actually made Bruce look up from his work and chuckle.

"Augh, fuck me. Seriously?! Why didn't you say anything?"

"He was enjoying a friendly chat with Steve Rogers," the AI chimed in his defense. "I would have told you eventually."

"Yeah, yeah. Mouthy computer," Tony grunted, turning his prototype gun over. "Well what're you waiting for? Give him an invitation down here."

"Of course, Sir."

Loki appeared behind him maybe a minute later. He did so in complete silence, and Tony was so absorbed in his work that he hardly took notice. Bruce did notice, though, and he jumped about a foot high.

Loki immediately put his finger to his lips, wide eyed, telling him to remain quiet.

Eyes alight with mischief, Bruce mimed zipping his lips shut and returned to his microscope. He was trying different poisons on the cells, including viruses and bacteria that were innocuous to humans, just to see if something happened. A medium dose of radiation was enough to halt the regeneration, but hot enough to kill the cells instantly.

Loki watched, amused, as his pet scientist became absorbed once again in his work, just like Tony was. It was almost like watching them meditate, only the effects were visible sooner. And also a lot more diverting to watch. Turning to Tony, he waited until he was confident the man wouldn't break anything if startled and hugged him from behind, pulling him back and tilting Tony's head up with a delicate touch under his chin.

The engineer yelped, feeling hands on him, and then saw his lover stooping over him (damnit, he was short, more so when sitting). Tony's face flushed again. The miniature gun on the table swivelled towards Loki, as if curious, but made no aggressive motions towards him.

Loki allowed the startled mortal a moment to overcome his surprise and grinned at down at him, before leaning over his head and kissing him, nearly upside-down. He couldn't hold the smile back long enough to make it a proper kiss — the position was frankly ridiculous, and Tony's goatee tickled his nose — so he broke it, laughing slightly.

"Holy shit," Tony breathed, biting at Loki's nose and laughing, before he swivelled around in his seat to better face the god. He put a greasy hand to his own chest, staining his already splattered — with oil and stains of Chitauri origin —work shirt.

"I cannot believe you had Jarvis summon me like a common peasant," Loki teased, finding it very amusing, and tapped Tony's nose.

"You are so lucky I programmed Frannie here not to fire on you," Tony snorted, tapping the mini turret gun with a screwdriver. "And hey, I would've summoned you via text, but I think you've gotten enough of those today," he stuck his tongue out. That had been fun, bombarding the god with texts during work. Oh, what he would've given to see his face. "Or, sorry, would you have preferred, oh, I dunno, lamb's blood and incantations?" He offered up his most shit-eating grin.

Loki gave him a deadpan and very eloquent look, not dignifying that with an answer.

Tony couldn't help but chuckle. "In any case, I called you down here to show off, if you're not too pooped. Wanna see what I've—" he looked at Bruce and corrected , "—_we've_ got so far? You've already met Frannie here, my miniaturized, portable version of the Framrherrlae. But wait!" he held up a finger, "there's more! We've got some Chitauri research to show off if you're interested—"

At this Bruce rolled his eyes and chuckled, hearing how easily Tony discredited the data they'd collected in order to show off his new toys. Not that it bothered him, he simply went back to working.

"—But! There's the last thing, and probably the coolest. Hold on. You'll see it three... two... _one_...!" Tony made a little 'explosion' gesture with his hands.

Nothing happened.

"Jarvis!" he grunted.

"Apologies, Sir. I had three more seconds worth of preparation," the AI answered back. If he could've laughed, he would have, just then.

Tony got back into character, flailing his hands up. "And—!"

There was a hissing in the armory, the central platform rising up and revealing a gleaming, polished Iron Man suit. This one seemed different than the others, painted all in gleaming white with splashes of gold and matte black accents. It seemed much sleeker, though the thrusters that lined the spine and the legs seemed much more powerful than the ones in any of the other suits.

"Ta-daaa!" Tony sing-songed, " Iron Man Mark 39. I call it the Gemini. Built to handle deep space," he winked, looking for all the world like a little boy with an ego showing off his project at the science fair.

Loki didn't understand, at first, what was so special about this particular suit of armor, other than its color scheme. Then he replayed what Tony had said, and turned his eyes to Tony in an angry stare. "No." He said with finality, his voice harsh with worry masked as anger. "You are _not_ going into space and fighting them one on one. I forbid it." No matter how useful it would be. To do reconnaissance, to sabotage, maybe even carry the missiles. No. He would rather lose Midgard than Stark.

The proud look on Tony's face fell . Wait, how had he fucked up now? "You _forbid_ it," he parroted mockingly, annoyed that Loki was such a control freak.

Loki shook his head. He couldn't risk Tony's safety like that. His brow crinkled in obvious worry and he bit his lip. He knew Tony well enough to know that telling him he ought not to do something only spurred him to do it all the more. And there was no talking him out of something when he got it in his head. He was stubborn as a mule, and cunning as a fox besides. He rested his hands on Tony's shoulders and squeezed lightly. Feeling slightly defeated, he took a step that left him standing between Tony's open legs and cradled his mortal's fragile head to his sternum. "I do not want to lose you," he said, his voice strangled and small. He had nothing to add, or rather, too many things wanting to pour out at the same time.

'_Oh_,' Tony realized. '_He's worried._' Wow. The realization made Tony's breath hitch. Yes, the temptation to fight Loki's command was there, it was his nature to go against authority, usually when it warranted it, but the look in those beautiful green eyes pacified that urge. So he simply let Loki hold him to his chest, basking in being held and finding comfort in this strange, protective adoration.

Closing his eyes, Loki carded his fingers through Tony's hair, petting him for his own comfort, to remind himself that Tony was still there. "We both know you are going to go anyway," he said, feeling slightly more in control of himself and his voice. "Thank you for telling me." There _were_ a lot of useful applications for the suit, of course. If only it didn't involve sending Tony into bilgesnipe's burrow...

Tony wanted to rumble happily into the god's touches (_good god,_ he loved people touching his hair), closing his eyes for a moment and reveling in the feeling of his head being stroked under another's palm. "Well, I _do_ wanna go see Mars at some point," the engineer laughed softly, but his comment was noncommittal. Let's not worry Loki any more than he needed to be. Tony could always go star-hopping later. "Hey, I could find a star and name it after you," he winked, stroking his thumbs over Loki's elbows and trying to reassure him.

"I do not suppose you could pilot it from this place, Dear?" Loki allowed Tony to raise his head and face him.

Tony smiled mischievously. "You cotton on fast, don't you?" he approved, only loving him all the more for it.

Loki slapped him upside the back of his head, upsetting his hair, for worrying him needlessly. "You were planning on doing that already, I see." Well, there was an idea. "Do you think you could make several more, then?" He massaged Tony's shoulders gently, smiling, proud of his favorite mortal's foresight and overall cleverness.

" Sure, I can mass produce them," Tony said, rubbing his hands through his hair. "Jarv's a beast with them now, aren't you buddy?"

"I consider it a hobby now, Sir."

Tony grinned. "And with a small device and my awesome butler, I can pretty much telecommunicate and organize their movements, as groups _and_ individually. I told you I had stuff to show off." The proud look returned. "Oh! And these babies—"

Frannie was plucked up and held towards the god, the turret's barrel looking quizzically at the taller man.

"—will be mounted on the suits for extra kick. Roughly only a little less firepower than the bigger ones, but they're shorter range so the suits have to get in close. I'm already working on a miniaturized Aegis system for these guys as well but..." The billionaire shrugged. "I can only do so much _awesome_ in one day," he teased. "Jeez, Loki. It's like you expect me to crank out groundbreaking feats of scientific genius every day." Which, of course, was already a standard Tony held himself to. He lifted himself and offered the god a peck on the lips as apology for his teasing.

But Loki avoided him, pulling his head back slightly and raising his brows at him challengingly. "_I_ expect you to, do I?" he asked, smiling wide and very slyly.

Bruce snorted from his place by the microscope, but didn't say anything.

Glancing sideways at him and terribly amused, Loki then returned his gaze to Tony's eyes. Their faces were still close, since Tony wasn't about to give up on stealing a kiss just because Loki was playing hard to get, so when Loki spoke next, his breath fanned over Tony's mouth. "I suppose you _could _use me as an excuse." He hand came up under Tony's chin and he stroked the fleshy bit under his jaw with two fingers. "As long as I get something in return, of course..."

"Huh?" Tony purred, getting into the game. "And what does Mr. President want in return, I wonder…"

There was nothing Loki wanted more in the world at that moment than a backrub — a footrub came a second close — but Tony had no idea. He probably thought the favor Loki wanted would be sexual in nature. Loki's finger travelled down Tony's throat, his fingernail barely grazing the skin, leaving a burning trail all the way down to the collar of the shirt he was wearing, and dipping a bit inside. One corner of his mouth lifted smugly at the way Tony's pupils immediately dilated.

A ball of paper hit Loki on the side of the head, startling him.

Bruce?

"Take it to the bedroom, guys," Bruce said as he turned back towards the microscope. "I have enough hearing Tony's moans through the walls, I don't need to hear them live." He peered down at his slides to hide his reddening face.

Tony couldn't help but look over at the poor scientist they had been subjecting to their noisy lovemaking. "Hey! I was trying to be quiet... this morning," he added, trying to defend them and failing. "Sorry, Brucey. Maybe next time you can join in," Tony winked before receiving a small jab from the god. "Ouch, alright," the engineer turned his attention back to his weary lover. Despite the casual way Loki went about everything, he sure did look beat. Maybe he'd give Loki a break tonight.

_Maybe._

The, still not looking at them, Bruce added, "Although I would appreciate it if you returned that paper. Those are my notes." He'd had nothing else on hand to toss, except the microscope, and he couldn't risk damaging it against Loki's skull. Eyes glued to his slides, he extended a hand towards them, palm up

Loki huffed out a laugh, calling the paper ball to his hand and parting from Tony with a sensuous brush of their chests. He deposited the ball on Bruce's hand, patting him on the head and murmuring, "I had no idea you were such a marksman," before returning to Tony.

Tony cackled, "Maybe Bruce got tips from Barton," a bit surprised at how ballsy Bruce could be at times. He'd hit the dictator in the head, just a tiny act that just brought about how human Loki really was, especially (he noticed) around the two of them.

Said dictator bit his lip and made a fist in Tony's dirty shirt, pulling him closer. "What do you say? Shall we take this negotiation to the bedroom?"

Tony grinned up easily at the taller man though, matching gazes with him. "Yep, bedroom sounds nice. You gonna be okay here, Bruce?" he offered.

The scientist just nodded timidly and went back to jotting notes. "I'll take good care of Angie for you."

"Frannie. It's Frannie!" Tony mock-called before gripping onto Loki's waist. "Shall we?"

For all answer, Loki covered Tony's eyes with his hand, grinned, and, opening a portal to their right, pulled Tony sideways into it.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 29th of July**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_"Good god. Could you stop being so fucking hot for a second? I'm trying to give you a massage and you're just tempting me," Tony groaned, pouting. "You're just cruel." He leaned over to knead the expanse of the deity's back with the whole of one forearm, digging deeper and knowing Loki could take it. With knots this deep (and how old were they? With Loki's incredible age...), he had to work hard to get them out, Tony's face and neck red with his exertions._

* * *

**End notes:**

Sorry for the lateness in posting this. My stepdad died on saturday (cancer, his fourth, in case you wanted to know) and we're still dealing with the fallout. Thank all fuck his death came as a relief to everyone, because paperwork+grief+succession would be a very explosive cocktail...

On better news! The story is almost finished being written (just finished ch. 34 :D) so as soon as we're done editing, I'll start updating every 2 days.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	23. Working out the kinks

**Chapter Title: **Working Out the Kinks

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length:** 5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **Nekkid massage. Censored smut.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki is tense. Tony gives him a massage.

**A/N: **I'm thinking of turning the FFNET version into a completely gen one. What do you think, readers?

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

The portal, naturally, deposited Loki and Tony in their shared bedroom, and Jarvis turned on the light to a low glow instantly. Still covering Tony's eyes, Loki leaned forward, open mouthed, and closed his lips right next to Tony's plump ones, teasing him with moist breath.

Tony leaned up into it, thinking it was, at last, a kiss.

Loki pulled away again. "You have to earn it," he said, grin obvious in his voice. "Or catch me unawares." He held his breath, so Tony wouldn't feel him coming, and flicked the tip of his tongue at the underside of Tony's cupid bow playfully. Then he pulled his hand away, along with the rest of himself.

Tony's eyes remained closed for about five seconds, as if to see if the hand-removal had been accidental, before opening and searching for Loki. If Loki wanted Tony's attention, this was definitely working.

The show of trust warmed Loki's heart a bit, and, emboldened by fatigue, he sent Tony a seductive little smile. Immediately after, he slid out of his suit jacket with a shrug of his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He stepped out of his shoes surreptitiously, pulling on the knot of his tie until it slid off. Once it dangled from his hand, he carefully untied it and then, suddenly, whipped it around the back of Tony's neck.

Tony grinned at the cheesiness, but he couldn't deny he liked it, especially when Loki's eyes were glinting so mischievously. There was an unspoken game of dominance and power there, Loki already having set the game with just a few actions. Loki had all the cards; at least, that's how Tony would choose to play for now. And he'd play the game.

Returning Tony's grin, Loki took a step back, then another, pulling him closer and closer to him and to the bed behind him.

His lover followed obediently. It was as if Loki, with just his movements, could place an invisible leash around the man's neck and pull him every which way without any fight.

When he felt the edge of the bed at the back of his knees, Loki let himself fall back, the tie pulling Tony down as well.

Tony caught himself on his hands, one knee between Loki's spread legs, the other outside. The warmth of Loki's thigh between his knees was heady.

Loki had landed propped up on his elbows, leaving their faces pretty close, and he took the chance of sucking briefly on Tony's lower lip before pushing him back.

The playboy complied immediately and let his eyes roam over Loki, guessing he was in for a show.

Knowing he had Tony's attention, Loki smirked and trailed a hand down his neck and all the way down his chest. The shirt buttons undid themselves, the undershirt vanishing, so the white, pure cotton of the shirt hung down at Loki's sides, still covering his shoulders and arms and framing his chest prettily.

Tony licked his lips, his eyes following the sensual line of Loki's parting shirt, inch by inch of milky flesh revealing itself to him. He was sure he could never get over the beauty of Loki's godly form, so very much like a work of art Pepper would have bought and stuck in his penthouse floor to catch the sun's rays.

Loki's hand continued on its path, down to the waistline of his trousers, and undid the belt and the button. "Help me take these off, and you may have a kiss," he said, his voice sultry and price-like.

"Yep, you got it, boss," the human smirked, his hands already moving to do as commanded. He leaned forward and down tentatively. Wanting to dip his head between the open folds of Loki's shirt, Tony looked up to catch Loki's emerald gaze for silent permission. He wanted nothing more than to kiss against that pale flesh, run his tongue and teeth over it.

Loki arched an eyebrow, as if asking why he wasn't getting on with the program.

So Tony refrained, for the moment, from kissing Loki's body as he wished, instead biting the waistband of Loki's trousers coyly.

The god exhaled aloud upon feeling Tony's warm, moist breath on the skin of his lower belly, but did not otherwise react, keeping in character.

Taking the tab of the zipper between his teeth, Tony undid them with a simple movement of his head. He had to thank his experience for that, he was pretty good at removing people's pants with his teeth by now (if he wasn't by this point, he really would have been worried about himself).

The careful touch rubbing against his sleeping cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as Tony opened the zipper had Loki dropping back, his muscles quivering.

Tony lifted himself to work the trousers further down along Loki's slender legs, having to lean back and bend to maneuver the cloth, offering the god a toothy half-smile. The trousers fell away from his mouth with a small 'pteh'. "So. Do I get my prize now?" he smirked and tossed them away after wrestling them from Loki's feet, soaring away so that Loki had no hope of retrieving them tonight.

That his lover, arguably the most powerful man of Midgard, had chosen to remove Loki's pants _with his mouth_ without being told to, so willingly submissive to Loki's playful orders... It pleased Loki enormously. So much, indeed, that he rewarded Tony with a brilliant smile and motioned him closer by crooking his finger.

Tony's eyes travelled over Loki with pure, unadulterated adoration. "You are so beautiful," he purred, sliding up Loki's body to claim his hard-earned kiss.

Loki stopped him placing the pad of his index finger to Tony's lips, feeling slightly constricted by the shirt he was still wearing. His skin had woken now, thanks to Tony's impeccable ministrations, and every brush with the soft cotton made his skin tingle pleasantly, making his chest flush slightly. He brought his hand up to Tony's head and stroked it gently — not the touch of a lover, but instead that of a master showing affection to his favored pet.

Said pet inclined his head into the touch like a well-trained pup, looking at Loki with enquiring brown eyes.

"I feel inclined to reward your creativity as well, my pet," Loki explained, cupping Tony's jaw and stroking the skin there, soft but prickly with scruff. "I shall grant you something else, aside from what was promised." His fingers pressed under Tony's chin to lift it, leaving him staring at the ceiling, and scratched lightly down the rough skin of his throat with the fingernails. His touch continued down to Tony's shirt, snagging in the collar. "Take this off, and claim your prize." Licking his lips, Loki watched Tony expectantly, letting his hand drop down to his thigh. "Then, name your boon, that I might grant it."

Loki let his body drop back down, and tossed his arms over his head, crossed loosely at the wrists, putting his slightly flushed chest on display. The ink-black hair fanned around his head, contrasting beautifully with his creamy skin and rumpled white shirt. He looked like the very picture of debauched innocence.

Tony's eyes roamed wildly, not quite knowing where he wanted to look more. "Aw, I get a boon from a space Viking god? Must be my lucky day," Tony drawled, voice slightly hoarse. The rough touch of Loki's nails against his stubble reminded Tony that he needed to shave (or he'd get Loki to do it for him in the morning). But he kicked that thought out of his mind, concentrating on pleasing his lover. He leaned away and lifted up on his knees so Loki would have a wonderful view, and then wriggled, doing a little dance as he worked his own shirt off, making sure to flex every muscle he knew how to.

Loki rewarded him with a soft, proud smile, and didn't move at all, letting Tony feast his eyes.

The work shirt came off, discarded quickly to the side as Tony sunk back against Loki and slipped his hands under the folds of his shirt near the waistline. His thumbs rubbing little concentric circles that kept swirling inwards towards his inner thighs, those engineering hands already warm and awake from his previous work in the labs. He was massaging Loki out of instinct now even without being asked, wanting to feel all of Loki under him, under his fingers. His thumbs found Loki's groin and Tony couldn't help but smooth his palms over Loki's cotton-covered cock to help wake it up.

Loki gasped, his back arching slowly, and then chuckled low in his throat. "Come here, you," he purred.

Tony smirked and brought his lips over Loki's, claiming what was his, at last. He settled himself firmly between Loki's legs and writhed to press his half-hardened arousal against his lover's.

Still chuckling seductive, Loki turned his head away and nosed Tony's face to the side so he could speak into his ear. "State your boon, Pet."

Tony, denied Loki's mouth again, set to placing as many kisses as he could get against Loki's neck while he thought-"Mmm. There's so many options. I think you even laid them out for me once," he laughed against the pulse at his lips. "I dunno. I could always tie you down and take what I want," he paused, "or vice versa. I could suck you off until you cry out loud enough for even Bruce to hear us way down there." He smirked at the exaggeration. "Or, you know. Vice versa."

The god hummed, considering that. He liked the idea of sucking Tony off, feeling him melt into a writhing, panting mess just because Loki willed it so.

Tony perked up, grazing his teeth at the delicate skin beneath the point of the god's jaw. "I dunno. Is that boring for you? I bet you guys had some pretty barbaric altar sex under the moon or something huh?" Tony waggled a brow.

Loki laughed, low and sultry, his chest shaking with it under Tony's. "You have not the faintest notion do you?" he asked mockingly between chuckles, bringing his hands down to scratch behind Tony's ears, guiding his head up so he could meet his eye.

"Apparently not?" Tony asked in a breath, his dark eyes glued to Loki's pink, gleaming lips.

"The Aesir culture, as a whole," Loki explained, "is _tremendously_ repressed." He saw Tony's eyes widen and he smirked. "Waiting until marriage to have sex, unless it is with prostitutes. Only one sexual position; of course, bridal style." He expected Tony would know of it, even if by another name. "Is it considered _dishonorable_ to otherwise. Vanir culture, on the other hand..."

Interesting to know. Tony made a mental note to tease Thor about it if he ever saw the big guy again. "What about Vanir culture?" he breathed, playing along.

"So glad you asked." Loki's hand stroked heatedly down Tony's back, while the other pulled Tony's head closer so he could speak against his lips, smiling sinfully up at him. "In Vanaheim, the venereal act is as common as a game of dice. You could come up to any stranger on the marketplace, ask them for a roll in the hay," he palmed Tony's buttock over his pants, his fingers teasing the seam that lay over his asscrack, "and they will pause what they are doing, fuck you, and resume it later, and no one gives a fig."

Everything Loki spoke of made the human shiver with delight, Tony listening intently, mouth hanging open like a dog in heat. It was not only the tale, but also the way Loki spoke of it, his words slipping in and around him, truly earning the title of Silver Tongue.

Lapping at the seam of Tony's mouth, Loki closed his eyes and continued. "They have entire libraries dedicated to it. Games, positions, a study on the effect of different scents on arousal and performance, you name it, and it is there." He chuckled, opening his eyes and looking into Tony's with lust shining in them. "As a youngster, I took frequent trips to Vanaheim, and returned sated and loaded with books. I ended up as quite the shameless deviant, but Thor, to this day, still thinks of me as an untried bookworm." He grinned deviously and slipped his hand under Tony's slacks and underwear, middle finger pressing into the valley between his buttocks. "The greatest trick I ever played on him."

Tony found himself clenching his ass, trying to capture that teasing finger, wanting touch, wanting anything because Loki knew just how to have him wanting in such a forlorn manner. He was trying to concentrate on the idea of a place where people just dropped their groceries to fuck, then went right back to looking at fruits. "Sounds like my kind of town," Tony grinned, his body already radiating heat.

Loki's kneading of Tony's ass had the man panting hotly over him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes shining with anticipation, and Loki was eating it up. "So allow me to offer you a bargain. I am tired, and my back is sore. If you give me a proper massage, I will show you a trick I can do with my magic the likes of which even you have never seen, nor will ever see again, and you will only need to lie back and enjoy."

"Gods, yes," Tony hissed, tilting his ass into that heated touch, licking his lips. "Not that I wouldn't love that, but that sounds like a new kind of bargain. What about my _boon_?"

Loki dug his hand deeper down Tony's pants, the tip of his finger pressing insistently at Tony's entrance. "As your boon, you may give me my massage with both of us entirely naked." It wouldn't be a hardship, either. The top section of his ass tingled as he imagined Tony's hard, heavy rod nestled between his cheeks, sliding back and forth with every pass of Tony's hands over his back. "So, mine dear Pet? What say you?"

"Wait, so I couldn't have given you a massage while naked _before_?" Tony scoffed playfully, already moving away and off the bed, his mattress lightly groaning as he extracted himself. He backpedalled and held up a finger. "One sec, Baby. I'll be right back. Get rid of that shirt, will ya?"

"As you wish," Loki crooned, raising himself up on his elbows, removing his shirt and tossing it over the edge of the bed.

Tony disappeared into the washroom for a good few moments.

Loki could hear the sound of water running. He took off his underwear as well, and swung it around on a finger for fun while he waited for Tony. The sound of water stopped, and the subsequent shuffling noises distracted Loki enough that his boxer shorts slipped off his fingertip and landed on one of the bedside lamps.

That, coupled with the clothes strewn everywhere, gave the room the appearance of having been the setting for a wild orgy.

'_And here we're only just starting_,' Loki thought amused, playing with the foreskin of his half-interested dick. His body shivered with anticipation.

Tony returned with a monogrammed towel, a small bottle of oil and a witty grin on his face. He was wearing nothing now, his erection bobbing between his legs as he moved over to the bed again, his eyes roaming over Loki's pale skin. There was only one thing that could make this better. "Jarv, candle lighting."

The room went from dulled ceiling and lamp-light, switching to a dim, warm-hued lighting that emanated from the sectioned trim panels along the floor.

Why yes, he _was_ prepared for shit like this. Why wouldn't he be? "Alright, Baby, lay out how you want," he said as he waited, the room temperature turning comfortable as the AI made his own adjustments.

Loki laid out on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so Tony would have no option but to sit on him. "Wait a moment," he said, holding up a hand in Tony's direction when the man seemed ready to pounce on him. He reached down under his belly and brought his cock up so it'd lay flat between his the mattress and his lower belly, predicting it would get to at least semi-hardness soon, and get really uncomfortable otherwise.

Tony gave the god proper time to fix himself, content with drinking in the sight of Loki's pert ass and the way every muscle shifted, serpentine whenever he moved. "Fuck, Mr. President. You look delicious," Tony commented, tossing the bottle in the air and catching it again, full of nervous energy.

Wiggling his hips slightly to check if it was a comfortable position — it was — Loki brushed his hair to the side, exposing the back of his neck, then rested both arms at his sides and turned his head to look at Tony. "All yours, my dear," he said, smiling, and closed his eyes. It was amazing how relaxed he was already, just for being in Tony's loving presence.

"All mine," Tony purred back, crawling up and taking a seat on his lover's upper thighs. As Loki had imagined, he rested his cock between the valley of Loki's ass, wriggling to get a better seat. "Mmm. Comfy?" he asked, tipping his head as he tipped the bottle to his fingers and squirted a small bit onto his fingers, warmed from the water he'd run it under.

Loki purred, stretching his back. "Very much so."

Shuffling forward, Tony spread his fingers out and worked the oil at the top of Loki's shoulders. His calloused fingers added a bit of extra friction as he pressed them in, feeling the hard knots that seemed to come with that day's work it seemed. "Sheesh, you're so stiff," he commented, "Having fun dealing with snotty bureaucrats and finicky secretaries, huh?" He moved his hands down, rubbing firm circles over the ridges of the god's shoulder blades, pulling down along the strips of muscle at either side of the spine.

The god melted into a puddle of shivers and soft groans. This was good — where had Tony learned to give massages this good? How had he not asked Tony to do this before? He clearly had a very good idea how to go about it, and it wasn't just the massage itself that felt so good. The warmth, the intimacy of them both being naked and getting more aroused by the moment yet not feeling the urge to do anything about it, the racy touches and the affectionate strokes...

Tony's touch came to the dip in his back, and he took a handful of derriere, working those as well. "Sorry, can't help it," the billionaire said unrepentantly, looking down at Loki.

Loki groaned in pleasure, the inappropriate, but very welcome, touch to his ass wrenching the sound from him. "Worry not, my dear," he sighed, melting into the mattress. "It is as you said, I am yours. You may touch ah!–s you please." He moaned softly, and it came out as lazy purr. "It will feel good regardless," he murmured, burrowing his face into the mattress.

"I'll make it happen," Tony promised, moving back up with a much lighter touch, letting fingernails drag a soft red trail up over his lover's sides to end at his shoulders. The warm, slick heat of Loki's waking flesh drifted into Tony through their touch, shivering through his own body and down to his cock. The sheen of oil shining over the landscape of Loki's form was all too enticing.

Loki let out a shivery sigh when Tony hit a particularly sore spot at his waist, where he had been bent over all afternoon, working over the desk. "There, Tony, please," he ordered, but the soft tone and the 'please' made it sound like he was pleading. At this point, however, he didn't care.

That was the greatest thing about Tony, he reflected. Loki's pleas would not be, for him, a mark of Loki's weakness; rather, they would be a mark of his own prowess. He would take pride in making Loki beg not because Loki was the — estranged, admittedly — prince of Asgard, or the — temporary — ruler of Midgard, or just a generally self-possessed and in-control person. No; Tony would not see it as making Loki admit defeat under him, he would see it for what it was: Loki _giving_ Tony that power over him.

Just like the power over his own body Tony had given Loki was one of Loki's greatest treasures.

Tony's working hands moved to obey easily, bring them back down to the spot that Loki indicated. There were indeed tough knots here as well, so Tony balled his fists and gently but firmly kneaded them into Loki's skin, working out the deeper kinks.

It was different, massaging a man. There was so much more mass here than there was with a woman, the muscles similar but tougher, less forgiving. Loki was all lean and sinewy, but still masculine. Actually, Tony would say he was almost the perfect balance in between and the best of both worlds sans breasts — he still liked boobs, okay? — and he certainly wasn't complaining.

His lover was the world, and there was no way in hell he was going to give the dictator up. Not for anything.

When Tony took to pressing his thumbs along the dips of Loki's spine, Loki lost himself in it, moaning audibly. He may have played up the vulnerability in his voice a little, but he could feel Tony's cock twitching between his buttocks, and he knew Tony was eating it up, loving every moment. That, coupled with Tony's warm, solid weight holding him down, and his calloused hands working Loki's muscles the same way he worked his computers, meant that Loki wasn't unaffected either. He begun gently, softly, rolling his hips, catching his foreskin on the coverlet and dragging back and forth over the shaft of his cock. It was simply lovely, and he let Tony know with a stream of nonsense and groans.

Every little moan, every utterance of Tony's name came as a compliment, as a shock to his system. They worked on Tony almost just as well as an expert blowjob, the thrill and anticipation causing him to leak unabashedly. This was way too hot. Tony had to chuckle. If someone had told him he'd be sitting atop the ruler of the world and invader from outer space, both in the nude, while giving said alien a massage, Tony might've laughed his lungs out.

Loki murmured Tony's name in a voice so soft and affectionate it was a caress in itself, and he blushed a bit at how far gone he was. "You are _far_ too good at this," he praised.

"Well you know. A little practice never hurt," Tony laughed. "Working on machines, I think, lends to it too," he puffed his chest out, dragging flesh up as he pulled his hands to rub firm fingers over Loki's nape, fiddling with the gentle hairs while thumbs folded over the knobs of spine. The smile on his lips widened, Tony tilting his head even if Loki couldn't see him with his face buried into the expensive sheets. He could feel Loki moving his hips beneath him, his seat shifting under his ass and drawing forth a low moan from the masseuse as well.

Was Loki too far gone, or was he doing that on purpose?

"Good god. Could you stop being so fucking _hot_ for a second? I'm trying to give you a massage and you're just tempting me," Tony groaned, pouting. "You're just cruel." He leaned over to knead the expanse of the deity's back with the whole of one forearm, digging deeper and knowing Loki could take it. With knots this deep (and how old were they? With Loki's incredible age, who knew?), he had to work hard to get them out, Tony's face and neck red with his exertions. "Jeez, when was the last time you got massage, Baby?" he asked as he hit a particularly firm kink halfway down his spine.

"Agh!" Loki cried out, the mixture of pleasure and pain driving him wild. "I–I think, maybe, fifty years ago?" he offered. "In Vanaheim—oh! Ah! That — perfect," he managed, his whole body alight with the lovely pain of a knot being massaged into oblivion.

'_Jackpot,_' Tony thought, grinning, and went to town on that spot.

Loki's toes curled in pleasure, and he tossed his head to the side, breathing harshly. Oh, bodily pleasures were always his weakness; he indulged so rarely in them. He knew what they thought of him on Asgard, always had, and he had only let loose elsewhere, taking care that his reputation only reached Asgardian ears through word of mouth. The way Tony was leaning on him, his balls fit snugly between Loki's buttocks, pressing against his asshole, and the teasing brushes as he rocked back and forth with the motions of his massage, his hot rod pressed so intimately into Loki's flesh, were setting his body on fire.

Tony could continue the wonderful massage another day. He had already done more for Loki's back than Loki himself had done in ages of stretching and calling up clones to soothe his aching back and neck, and every touch of his, now scorching, was making Loki melt into a writhing puddle of want.

"Tony, Tony," Loki gasped, one of his hands flying to settle on Tony's flexing gluts, digging into the firm muscle. "Stop resisting, fuck me — Hnnah!" He gave up on trying to speak, and simply lay there, under Tony, breathing audibly hard. Loki twisted his head to look at Tony with one dilated, lustful eye, to show him his pink face and red, glistening lips so that Tony knew he was sincere. He had already shown Tony he didn't like to be played with, to be teased and _made_ to beg, and he trusted Tony to give him what he wanted.

'_Well, this is some streak_,' Tony thought. Sex every night for three nights in a row? That wasn't such a feat. Sex every night for three nights in a row with the _same person?_

Now that was something.

Score.

Tony let himself grin with mirth. He knew Loki hated the teasing, but oh, he was absolutely endearing when he whined like that. "Wow, that progressed quickly," Tony couldn't help but say, waggling a brow and loving that aroused pink tinge to Loki's ears and face. "Alright, tell you what," Tony leaned down and trapped the shell of Loki's ear in his mouth, licking the ridge and breathing hotly. "I'll do both. Best of both worlds, right?" Tony dragged his teeth to the back of his lover's neck and bit it, an animalistic urge to simply bite down and fuck him like that, running through his body. Tony shivered.

Loki moaned explosively at the bite, his body alert and trembling with aftershocks. "Yes," he whispered brokenly. Then, in a louder voice, "Yes! Do that!"

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

Once Tony caught his breath, he ran his hands sluggishly to pet over his lover's sides. He was sleepy, groggy, and he murmured, "Just don't leave me, okay?" before his eyes started to flutter closed.

Maybe that was it, why he'd do everything for Loki. So he could keep him here. Afraid that Loki might go someday, portal away in the blink of an eye and leave him guessing. Unaware that it was usually himself who was the first to leave.

"Of–of course not," Loki answered softly, his voice still shaky in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He felt Tony's breath on his neck, and it sent through him a particularly delicious aftershock.

On top of him, his lover mumbled in agreement, shifting and getting more comfortable. Not inclined to move at all.

Being sleepy and fucked out, there was nothing more Loki wanted from the world than to fall asleep, not even caring that he was lying in his own spend. However, he still had enough presence of mind to predict a crick in the neck of godly proportions should he stay in the position he was currently in, so he tilted his body sideways — gingerly, so as not to disturb Tony unduly — and allowed his lover to fall onto his side.

Tony made the cutest little _oof_ noise, and then groaned, blinking his eyes open to check what Loki was doing, and then closing them again when he saw he was still there and not going anywhere.

A bit woozily, Loki took a deep breath and concentrated long enough to snap his fingers and bring the bedcovers on top of them. Jarvis seemed to take that as a sign to turn off the lights, and Loki could see the fading golden glow of his spent seed. For some reason, it made him laugh, and he turned onto his side still chuckling, before tugging Tony's arm around his waist.

Sleepily, Tony burrowed into Loki, plastering his chest to Loki's back yet again, his legs slotting into Loki's bent ones like key and lock.

Loki smiled indulgently when his lover burrowed into him, reaching over his shoulder to pet his head and card his fingers through his hair affectionately.

The subtle touches allowed Tony to drift into a comfortable sleep, his body snug against Loki's, fitting his face securely into the crook of his lover's neck and breathing in deeply. Honestly, he couldn't think of a more perfect way to fall into dreams, sleeping to the warmth of Loki held tightly to him.

Loki retrieved his hand only to hold the one Tony had slung over his chest, entwining their fingers. He fell asleep listening to Tony's breathing.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 1st of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki tripped on the covers and almost fell face first into the thick carpet, but managed to catch himself. He picked them up, frowning, and continued his trip, this time starting to worry. He found his missing lover naked, shivering and pale, slumped over the toilet seat, and understood his affliction at once._

_Loki had seen this same expression in countless faces, mainly of those who had been to a battlefield and come back not quite the same. Once, in one of his serving girls, who had been raped before she got into his service, and got the very same lost expression and heavy breathing when a man so much as looked at her for more than two seconds._

_Cautiously, he approached Tony's bent form, knelt beside him and put the covers around his shoulders. Done, Loki let himself drop onto the ground, sitting his bum bare against the tiles. He made no motion to touch Tony, although he wanted nothing more than to cradle him to his chest, or rub his back, or cup his face and kiss him despite the taste of vomit that was bound to meet his mouth._

* * *

**End notes:**

BRB, gotta go to the dentist, I think I just gave myself cavities writing this. GAH.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	24. Appeasement

**Chapter Title: **Appeasement

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **PTSD, anxiety attack.

**Chapter Summary:** Tony has an anxiety attack.

**A/N:** ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

It was _too hot._

Tony was sweating. The sheets had mostly dried from Loki's cum and the oil that had managed to rub off during their massage-fuck session, but now they were damp again and twisted around one of Tony's legs, half of the top one wrapped in an almost serpent-like fashion around his chest, messily laying around him and tangling the human as he'd pulled away from the god.

He was still sleeping, but he didn't know that.

As far as he knew, he was falling. He remembered a sea of stars, followed by bars. He'd fallen into a great box with an open ceiling, the walls made of wrought iron bars and the sky as nothing but darkness and bits of light. And it was unforgiving light, not a familiar golden hue that seemed to give him comfort.

But in the end, he was always falling, grasping for something to hold onto. So that he wasn't forgotten. He didn't want to be forgotten, that was the worst thing in the world. No. There was something worse, but he couldn't remember. He was forgetting someone, falling away from them in this ungodly sea of lights and blackness, but maybe that wasn't the worst thing. And he felt like he was being _chased_ down.

No. That wasn't right. It felt more like he was being watched, observed from afar like an ant under a microscope or something like that.

_I AM COMING_, he felt the stars say, the celestial bodies singing to him in an ugly tone that came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. His ears might've been bleeding, but really, that was the least of his problems. He didn't even have his _suit_ up here. Yet somehow, in this dream world, he had accepted that that was how it was supposed to be.

_I AM COMING_, it said again. And not in the sexy, perverted kind of way.

It. They. Them. He didn't know.

When he finally smashed down into something (he hadn't seen it, he was falling backwards), it was enough to jar Tony awake, sending a shock through his system that had him bolting upright in a second. Chest heaving, he looked to see whether or not he was still in space and finding his familiar room bathed in darkness and—

Oh, Loki was there. Still sleeping. Damn, he was a heavy sleeper when he wanted to be.

The inertia of his imagined trajectory through space caught up to him, and Tony scrambled to get out of bed, pulling the sheets with him. They slumped to the floor not five feet from the bed, leaving the poor god naked and uncovered. The billionaire staggered to the bathroom as quickly as his feet could carry him (and _fuck_, one of them was _asleep_ thanks to the constriction from the tangled mess of blanket), and Tony paid homage to the great porcelain god (really, this wasn't anything new, except that he wasn't _piss drunk_).

Most of that ordeal ended up as a dry heave, but shit, it had felt like he'd just been doing training for NASA or something (or maybe doing cartwheels in the Mark 15 while airborne). Tony stayed like that for a while, just leaning against the seat pitifully.

Really, he wanted to get over this before his lover even woke up. He was half convinced Loki would just piss on his head anyway if he didn't get out of the way, so that was incentive enough.

* * *

The lights turning on and the sudden chill against his skin jarred Loki awake. He sat up, squinting around in confusion. Why was he cold? Where were the sheets? ...Why was the light on?

Blinking the wool out of his thoughts, he dropped back down onto the bed. Why were the lights on? Had he forgotten something? More importantly, where was Tony?

He sat up again at that thought. Had something happened? "Jarvis, where is—?"

"The bathroom, Loki," the voice of the AI interrupted. It sounded... strange. Was that _urgency_ in Jarvis's voice?

Well, for the clever and usually very polite servant to have interrupted Loki's question, let alone turned on the lights just for Tony to go to the toilet when he could manage perfectly well in the dark...

"Is he well?" Loki asked, getting up from the bed, already in motion towards the bathroom.

"Well enough. Sir appears to be experiencing an anxiety attack," the AI answered, and now the concern in his artificial voice was painfully obvious.

Loki tripped on the covers and almost fell face first into the thick carpet, but managed to catch himself. He picked them up, frowning, and continued his trip, this time starting to worry.

He found his missing lover naked, shivering and pale, slumped over the toilet seat, and understood his affliction at once.

Loki had seen this same expression in countless faces, mainly of those who had been to a battlefield and come back not quite the same. Once, in one of his serving girls, who had been raped before she got into his service, and got the very same lost expression and heavy breathing when a man so much as looked at her for more than two seconds.

Cautiously, he approached Tony's bent form, knelt beside him and put the covers around his shoulders. Done, Loki let himself drop onto the ground, sitting his bare bum against the tiles. He made no motion to touch Tony, although he wanted nothing more than to cradle him to his chest, or rub his back, or cup his face and kiss him despite the taste of vomit that was bound to meet his mouth. He settled for touching Tony's hand, stroking the back of it, and looking at his lover with tender, worried eyes.

He didn't ask if Tony was okay, for it would be a stupid question. Instead, he leaned against the side of the toilet, facing Tony, and got comfortable — as comfortable one could get with their bare bum, crusted with dried cum, on the cold tiles.

Tony shrunk from the touch, pulling his hand away and brushing the back of it inelegantly across his lips. He realized who had joined him, breaking out of his haze. _Loki._ His lover. His eyes flicked drearily to the god, Tony trying for a quirky smile and mostly managing it. "H–heya Lokes. What _buh_—" _'Oh, god, don't puke_,' "—brings you here to the bathroom floor on this fuh–fine, lovely morning?"

Nailed it.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Love?" Loki asked gently, ignoring Tony's mumbles, delicately brushing stray locks of hair out of Tony's forehead.

Tony closed his eyes, just pushing back the dread that threatened to wash over him like a tide and feeling Loki's fingers brushing through his hair (that always felt nice), relaxing to the sound of Loki's voice. "Mmm... Love. I like that." He instinctively started leaning into the hand, finding comfort in even the most minute thing as the choking sensation began to peel away. He'd cooled considerably from all the sweat, so that blanket became a warm cocoon bundled around him. "Because I love you. Holy shit, that's weird to say. But I do," Tony said, almost a little manically. "I do. And—" he cut himself off, closing his eyes tight.

Loki carded his fingers though Tony's hair soothingly. "And?" he prompted.

Tony's head snapped up. Intelligent brown eyes settled on the god. "Loki, all the signs. He's coming, he said so. I love you and... and I need to protect you. He'll come for you first." As if his intimacy with the toilet bowl had never happened, he struggled to stand, nearly falling over before he shakily managed and started walking into the bedroom again. He made sure to hold onto the walls for a while, a ball of blanket with nothing but a head and hairy limbs.

Feeling slightly apprehensive, Loki got up as well and followed him.

"Jarvis. High security, level three," Tony was saying. "You got that, buddy? Level three. I don't want anyone in or out of here unless I say so. Er. Loki is obviously an exception," he said quickly, his mind suddenly going into overdrive, eyes flicking over to Loki as if he might get stolen if he didn't watch him. Or shot. Or even bruised. He wasn't completely ready, not yet. "I'm too slow. Too slow. Not yet." He hadn't made a plan for if those alien rat bastards broke through the barrier of the Aegis, if they didn't fall from the Framrherrlae. There had to be a plan for that too.

A last ditch effort. An escape.

There was too much to do. "How many days left?" Tony asked rhetorically, moving to the door that led into the hallway before realizing that maybe he needed pants, discarding the blankets. He wasn't sure where he was going yet — no wait, the labs! — but he needed pants first and— "Shit, there's so much to do still." He could build ships, cloaking devices, things to hide every bit of their signature. But then he might have to do it for the entire world. Or would he do that simply for Loki?

Or maybe they just needed more weapons, yeah. A gun that could charge up energy as the first and second waves of defense did their thing, while this one packed the final punch. He was pretty sure he could calibrate the blast to hit harder than ten nuclear bombs if he really put his mind to it. Hm. He'd just have to build a structure and find a location that was both possible to withstand a force of that magnitude. An island. Somewhere desolate.

"Fuck. Jarvis, I need an island. In the Pacific. Go." He was already making half-baked plans in his panic, not quite sure if an island could hold a device. And how would he get the equipment there fast enough?

Or! Or!

Maybe he could make a weapon that could drain their power source when they came far enough into their atmosphere. No, the energy storage for something like that would take some time to build too. Or! The weapon could absorb any incoming attacks, provided they were like, Death-Star-crazy-beams brand of attack, and he could pinpoint the location of the projectiles before it could cause any damage, or perhaps find some way to reroute the attacks depending on what form the offensive came in-

_Or!_

Tony was scrabbling around, naked and flustered.

God, he hated deadlines.

Loki had been following, getting progressively more worried the longer Tony spoke nonsense to himself. When his lover curled into a naked ball in the hallway, mumbling under his breath and wild-eyed, Loki could take no more, and he picked Tony up, carrying him to the bed even as the man fought to be let go, yelling about deadlines and hitting Loki with feeble hands.

He deposited Tony on the edge of their bed and knelt between his legs. He enfolded Tony with his arms, wanting to keep him from bad dreams and worse realities, cursing his own impotence. "Breath, Love," he ordered in a murmur right against Tony's ear. "Breath, get a hold of yourself. You cannot be clever if you lose your mind."

The only thing Tony got was that Loki was trying to restrain him. So he fought back, pushing against Loki's chest, clawing at it. Had he done wrong? Was he not useful anymore? No. Loki was trying to hold him down, as if Tony was a puppy who would hurt itself in his excitement.

Loki understood. He had listened to what Tony had been saying, about protecting him, about there not being enough time... He understood. Loki was familiar with the desperate urge to _do something_, even if it was no more than a desperate attempt to ward off the inevitable just a little longer. So he didn't put down Tony's fears, or tell him that he was talking nonsense, that it had all been a bad dream and that he should get down to bed.

On the contrary, he wanted to help assuage Tony's anxiety, to help Tony do whatever he felt he needed to do.

Tony, realizing that it was futile, gave up the struggle, going limp in Loki's arms.

Loki kissed his cheek and stroked his shoulders. "There you go, my dear, just breathe." He stood up, resting his hand on Tony's head. "Stay here, if you please." He helped Tony lie down, and then, trusting Tony to remain put, he went to Tony's closet and to get him clothes.

Tony remained still as he was, lying on his back as he sorted through the hazed mess of his mind. No, Loki wasn't restraining him. Tony calmed considerably, just staring up and counting imagined specks of dust (or were they stars?) while he lay naked and waiting for further instruction.

Loki returned a few minutes later with a set of clothing. He tugged Tony into a sitting position and mutely fell to his knees, ignoring, as he had been until now, the discomfort of Tony's dried seed pulling at the skin between his legs. Gently, but firmly, he dressed his lover.

The billionaire was loose-limbed, letting Loki move him as he liked. Like dressing a doll. It was strange. He had expected Loki to call him an idiot and put him back in bed, not actually _support_ him in one of his mad science binges. He felt like he was falling in love with him all over again.

Loki finished tying the laces of Tony's sneakers and smiled. "There, now you will not have the cold distracting you," He looked up at his clever, lovely mortal from where he was kneeling at his feet and stood up, pulling Tony up with him and hugging him. "_Now_ you may go," Loki breathed, pressing a kiss on the crown of Tony's head before letting go of him. "Go, then, Tony. Be clever, make us safe." He gestured to the door. "I will make breakfast and take it to the lab. You need fuel to power your brain."

Tony stared at Loki. Just _staring_, as if he were looking deep into the deity and further. A swell of emotion rushed over his cold body as he took in his lover. Hands moved to Loki's shoulder and a kiss was pecked against the god's forehead. "I love you," Tony said, his version of a thanks. "I'm gonna make sure they'll never even be able to breathe the same air you do. I'll make it all right." Callous fingers crept up his lover's neck, Tony gripping Loki's cheeks with a look that spoke volumes. "I promise."

"Good," Loki replied, liking the glint of spirit he could see in Tony's eyes now.

And then Tony was rolling off the bed and all but bolting for the personal access elevator. "Jarvis, gimme a heads up when Bruce is awake. Actually? Wake him up. I need him. I'll buy him a bouquet of flowers later," he commented, watching Loki just as the doors closed with a subtle hiss. First things first, he'd finish what he was working on. Mark 39 drones with mounted Framrherrlae guns and Aegis systems built into the outer shell. Or projected outwards from the armor. He still had to decide.

But this was good. This was a step. One step at a time, Tony, one step at a time. And breathe.

* * *

Loki watched him go with a little smile. He didn't know if what he was feeling was worry, nostalgia, affection, or a mixture of all three. He only hoped working would calm Tony down a bit. "Jarvis, give me the time, please?" he asked, rubbing his sleepy eyes, when he noticed it was still dark-ish outside.

"Half past four in the morning, Loki," the AI answered. Then, in an unprecedented show of emotion, he added, "Thank you for taking care of Master Tony."

"It was nothing special. Just a hug and a kiss," Loki replied, surprised, and, for lack of any other way of showing reassurance to Jarvis, he patted the wall comfortingly. "He did not wish to speak of his troubles to me quite yet. It was the best I could do," he offered, still unsure that it had been enough.

Jarvis seemed to mull it over. "It was a commendable effort. Sir is notoriously pig-headed."

Loki grinned, chuckling, and then yawned. The bed, bare except for the bottom sheet and the pillows, beckoned him invitingly, but if he had to choose between getting two more hours of sleep and being there for his lover, the choice was obvious.

Right, breakfast, then.

* * *

Tony barely registered anything beyond the schematics and prototypes and the calculations and measurements. Poor Bruce had already been dragged out of bed (Jarvis had been polite about it, knowing Bruce's temperament), and the two were working hard.

"Look, I know we have a deadline, Tony," Bruce said, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled, watching his friend cringe at the word. "But, do you wanna talk about this? Did you even sleep?"

Of course, Tony ignored the question.

Just then, showered and dressed, Loki carried the tray of light breakfast and a pot of coffee down to the lab. He knew by now how Tony liked his coffee depending on his mood, and he judged he would like some sugar for the extra kick, this early in the day.

Bruce greeted Loki with a grunt when he saw him, before returning to conferring with (see: mother-henning) Tony. He was thankful for the dictator being down there. Tony seemed just a pinch less on edge with the other around, he noticed.

Loki fixed mugs of coffee for all of them, and put Tony's and Bruce's within grabbing distance of their respective owners, along with the platter of sandwiches he had made so they could eat and not worry about cutlery or spilling anything at the same time. He didn't do much, after that. Just refill the coffee mugs and hand over whatever tool Tony might need. Otherwise, he sat on the futon Tony kept in the lab for naps between sciencing and alternated watching them work with a smile on his face and reading the news feed and his emails with a frown.

Soon Tony was in the process of mounting the first gun onto the Mark 39, setting it over the shoulder much in same fashion as War Machine's design. Once it was on, the engineer brought the suit to life via a small intercom (though he didn't really need it at the moment, but he was testing that too). "Come on, this way," he waggled his fingers at the suit, beckoning it forward. "Now turn around."

Bruce was watching with mild fascination, tasked with devising more chemical compounds that might be effective against the Chitauri. Looks like Tony was going even further and planning for a ground level attack again, just like Manhattan before. It would surely help out, though he doubted the Other Guy would be very interested in utilizing weaponry like that if it came to it, but it did help. Though, he wasn't sure it was going to do much good if their enemy got that close. From what he'd gathered, they had fought only_ one_ ship during the last invasion.

Tony fiddled with things on the mounted weapon, one tool in his mouth, another in one hand. "Thank, Baby," he said around the tool in his teeth, whenever Loki handed him something (and Bruce mused just how 'obtuse' and 'adorable in a strange way' the two were). And of course, the engineer guzzled the coffee, Bruce thankful for it as well but taking it much slower, the both of them thanking Loki for the food and the coffee.

Bruce also noticed Tony didn't allow himself much time to be intimate with Loki either. A polite peck or a quick nuzzle, but Tony was definitely distracted. It was strange, the jump from yesterday when they were essentially slapping each other's asses and having eye sex.

Then Loki announced he had to leave, and patiently waited for Tony to finish the delicate adjustments to say goodbye.

Finally, Tony turned from his work to see Loki off. "Be careful," he said. "And text me if... if anything happens. Or comes up."

Was that worry in the man's voice?

"Of course I will," Loki replied, smiling softly, before patting Tony's head in farewell. He then teleported to the lobby of the White House.

* * *

A lot of people who had gathered there, even in the early hours, swarmed Loki immediately.

Some of the matters _were_ of urgency, he would grant them that, but most of the people simply wanted some sort of reassurance that they weren't all going to die. Loki dodged them expertly — millennia of practice avoiding gossipy courtiers would do that to a person — and attended to the important problems, like the outbreak of panic-fueled incidents all over the continent, and the rapid depletion of food and essentials due to hoarding on the part of the inhabitants.

He really couldn't believe humans. Here he was attempting to save their planet from an alien conqueror and they were _hoarding car fuel_? Why? It wasn't like they would be driving _anywhere_ if the aliens did manage to come to Earth, and if they didn't, well, there would be no _need_ to have all that petrol anyway! How did some people _survive_ daily life, really?

But the most worrying problem was the increase in gun and ammunition sales — as if the mortals expected to have to fight. Loki knew that only the most idealistic were planning on using those weapons on Chitauri; his guess was that they were planning on having a minor civil war. To have to fight for food and shelter tooth and nail, like animals. It was moments like this that truly showed Loki how _unevolved_ these humans truly were.

Tired of permanently fighting two fronts at once, the threat and the people he wanted to keep safe from that threat, he escaped into his office for some time to think, deciding to call Rogers and ask him if the men loyal to him would wish to start helping already.

However, no sooner had he set foot in the Oval Office and closed the door behind him than someone assaulted him from behind, getting some sort of thin rope around his neck and pulling.

He reacted at once, crouching and bending back into his assailant, grabbing them around the middle and then tilting himself forward, lifting them and throwing whoever it was over his head. He had his throwing knife out in an instant, and was about to throw it when he heard the _click_ of a gun's safety being removed.

Captain Rogers had requested to come down to the lab to see what everyone was up to, disliking being out of the loop, and after some intense internal debate, Tony had calmed enough to allow Jarvis to escort the man down.

It would be the Captain's first time here, Tony would have mused, if he weren't so busy worrying about what Loki might be up to. Sure, Steve was one of those at the head of the Resistance, but Tony felt he trusted the First Avenger enough to behave. Tony still had not the assassins granted access to the labs, but their reputations and very careers rested on the foundations of lies, deceit, and thievery. The billionaire's prejudices were justified.

The elevator carried the soldier down with Jarvis opening the doors and letting him out into the cluttered workshop. Steve's jaw nearly dropped; he'd been impressed by the Helicarrier months ago, and while he was more accustomed to modern day technology by now, nothing in Tony's labs was anything but futuristic. Leaps and bounds further than anything he'd seen. And Steve understood none of it.

Tony missed the glassy-eyed stares though. "There, yeah. Twist the knob, no, twist yeah. That." He was wearing the Gemini suit now, standing on a testing mat and instructing Bruce on the finer points of screwing in an intricate piece on the Framrherrlae resting on his right shoulder. He was already debating adding another on the left.

Bruce was the first to turn, "Glad you could join us, Steve," said politely. The morning's grogginess still wearing on him, but the coffee had helped immensely.

"Don't mind us, we're just making stuff to save the world," the space suit shrugged. No biggie.

To his left, Dummy was already sweeping up debris from one of his earlier tests with the miniaturized Frannie.

Tony was roping in every bit of help he could get. "So uh, what's up, Capsicle?" he piped up, lifting an arm while Dummy dropped the broom and instead set to readjusting something near his elbow.

Steve had to chuckle at the name.

Tony continued without giving him time to answer. "Any news on the Resistance front? We need you guys."

Short and to the point. Steve had to wonder just what had gotten into Tony this morning, but he figured he'd pry later. This was good. None of that dramatic dancing around from the mechanic today (and it was no wonder Tony and Loki meshed so well). "Well, I just put in a call to begin assisting with Loki's plans." Goodness, that sounded conniving. "We're going to start moving out the, uh, Fram... Fruhn—"

"Framrherrlae. Just call them Frannies, if you want. I sure do," Tony quipped, slapping Dummy away and repositioning the robotic hand in the proper spot. "Easier that way. Loki named them."

"Yes, those," Steve nodded. "And _that_ makes sense." They were torture to pronounce. Seemed like a Loki kind of thing to do, name their primary weapons something like that. "We'll be mobilizing to distribute them in all controlled areas. And, uh. Yeah. We're going to be preparing and monitoring shelters for everyone. Starting today, we're going to start easing people into living underground for a while. We should have enough supplies, I think." At least, he hoped.

Hiding whole nations might be a bit of a feat.

"Awesome. Perfect." Tony stepped out of the sleek, white suit, which unfolded and refolded back into shape in a complicated, mind-blowing dance of metallic pieces all sliding and fitting together again.

Bruce was getting used to it by now. He still stared, fascinated at how something man-made could look so organic.

"It's a little stiff here and here," Tony said, pointing at the spots. "I want this one, this one's mine. I need to make sure I can get out there if I really need to..." His back was to Steve now, lost again in his world of planning and plotting and re-planning.

The soldier took no offense, instead moving to look over the work on the tables. Sheets of paper were spread out on one (Bruce was still a bit of a stickler for more old fashioned methods of note-taking), the others piled with pieces and parts of half-finished machines and tools. Steve reached out to prod curiously at the barrel of another unfinished 'Frannie' when the scientists spoke up.

"Careful, Steve." Bruce was speaking calmly. "You probably might want to sit down and don't touch anything. He doesn't like—"

"—I don't like it when people touch my stuff," Tony cut in, installing a new weapon cartridge at the Gemini's wrist, arming them with new ammunition catered after Banner's findings on the Chitauri. Bullets filled with compounds that currently seemed to work most efficiently on the grey bugs. He'd already done a bit of testing with those as well, the specialized shells manufactured to both shatter through Chitauri armor and also to deliver a dosage of fatal compounds directly into the bloodstream.

Jarvis was wonderful like that, Tony had to admit. Producing everything to his exact specifications at an incredible pace.

"Right. I'll try to remember that," the ex-Resistance leader said, taking a seat in one of the rolling chairs and simply looking instead. "Oh! That was another thing." Steve snapped a finger, moving his gaze from the pieces of disused Iron Man armor (he had _so many_!) to the scientists. "I phoned Fury to let him know what was happening, and I believe the assassins had already sent in their reports. You know, since we were discussing beforehand whether or not we were going to aid the efforts in the first place." He shrugged, not meaning to offend. It was simply how tense everything was. "I believe Fury and Hill were going to speak with Loki at some point."

Which probably meant a visitation.

Tony stopped. The sound of his tools dropping could probably have been heard echoing a mile away.

* * *

There was one thing Loki had learned about guns, and it was that they didn't need to be unlocked right before shooting. In TV shows, cops always removed the safeties as soon as they got an inkling they might need to shoot, never right before. Which made sense, because they would only lose precious fractions of a second otherwise. All that meant that, when someone cocked a gun next to someone else, it was an intimidation tactic, their way of letting you know they could have shot you instead, and that they still could.

Now, why would some assassin in his office actually take the time to warn him about their possession of a gun?

Easy — they weren't there to kill him.

Loki smiled cruelly even as he raised his hands in surrender. "Mr. Fury," he greeted pleasantly, nodding in acknowledgement. "Have you come for another lesson?" He looked at his desk, and sure enough, there the Director was, sitting in the president's chair. A quick glance at the floor confirmed his second suspicion — Maria Hill had been the one to attempt to choke him. "And Miss Hill! To what do I owe this pleasure? Should I get my secretary to bring us refreshments?"

Hill growled at him, getting up from the floor unsteadily and getting out her own gun.

"Quit the pleasantries, Loki," Fury spat.

Loki nodded. "Very well. If are come to slay me, I need to send a text first." He thought of Tony, and how devastated he would probably be if Loki died, even though he wouldn't show it. Would he avenge Loki? Would he forget about defending the planet only to hunt Fury down? He didn't know. Tony was too unpredictable.

Rolling his single eye, Fury put the safety back on and stashed the gun back into its harness.

Hill seemed confused, but followed suit.

Then Fury got up and motioned to the chair he had been sitting in. "There you go, you diva. You and I need to have a chat."

Chats, Loki could do. He smirked inwardly — they _kept_ letting him speak. Had they not worked out yet that speech was his main weapon? "Very well. Please, do take a seat," he offered graciously, never one to belittle someone just because he hated them.

They sat down, looking no less wary just because Loki had gone all perfect-host on them.

Loki took the chair than has been his for over three months, leaning back comfortably, and then swiveled slightly to get to the phone. He picked up the receiver and dialed the single digit that would connect him to his secretary. Sensing that Fury was about say something, Loki raised his hand in a gesture for silence without even looking at him.

"Hi, yes. I have some guests over, would you be so kind as to arrange some refreshments for us?" A pause as he listened to that his secretary had to say, and then rolled his eyes. "Yes, my dear, I know this is not in your job description. That is why I asked _if_ you minded."

Hill snorted despite herself at that, and shared an understanding look with him.

Loki bit back a smirk. "Thank you, you are an angel. What do you want?" he asked his impromptu guests.

"Irish coffee," Fury answered calmly, as if it was every day that his greatest bane offered him a drink.

Hill was not so calm. "Coffee, black. No sugar, no milk." She said it in the same deadpan, brusque voice she used to give orders.

"Excellent. Irish coffee, a simple black coffee and, for me, Earl Grey tea with a slice of lemon. And get something for yourself as well, you deserve it," he said with a smile that showed in his voice. The smile dropped the second he put the receiver down, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "How do you deal with this every day?" he asked Fury and Hill, sounding tired.

It seemed to be the drop of wine that made the cup overflow; Fury hit the desk with his fist angrily. "Will. You. Stop. It?" he asked, punctuating the words with more punches.

"That is mahogany," Loki said indignantly, looking at the top of the desk with raised eyebrows. Then he frowned and tapped his chin theatrically. "No, wait, I lie. I have no idea what that wood is."

It seemed Hill had had enough. She grabbed her gun, pointed it at Loki, and very, very slowly cocked the safety back, giving Loki a warning glare.

Loki answered with a very thin, very fake smile. "Very well. We shall do this your way, then." He rested his elbows on the desk, putting his fingers together and leaning forward so that his joined index fingers touched his lips. "What have you come for?"

That seemed to bring them short. Fury, if Loki was not mistaken, even looked a little sheepish, but only Loki's keen eye with facial expressions allowed him to glean that from the slight narrowing of his eye and the minute flinch of his shoulders. "Rogers told us about your little deal."

Loki arched an eyebrow coldly. "Is that so? And? Have you come to inform me you will not allow him to do as he promised?" However cool and calculating he looked, internally, he was freaking out badly. Rogers's men were his only hope to deliver the Framrherrlae, and to keep the citizens of Earth in check. If he couldn't count on them, he would need to rethink his plan urgently.

But Hill's next words made him freeze in place.

"We want to help."

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 5th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Loki grinned at Jane. "It should be working perfectly. Really, Dr. Foster, you have outdone yourself." He patted the console that contained the on switch._

_"Huh?" asked the bug in her irritating voice. "Then why is it not working?"_

_"Darcy!" Jane chastised her with an angry whisper._

_"It is quite alright," Loki appeased her. "An Einstein-Rosen bridge is merely a door that one opens and closes at one's leisure."_

_Darcy popped her gum. "Yeah, duh. So?"_

_But Jane snapped her fingers before Loki could answer. "We don't have the doorway," she guessed._

* * *

**End notes:**

Lookie how I fail at Loki!banter. Hope you liked nonetheless.

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	25. Experiments

**Chapter Title: **Experiments

**Chapter Rating**: K+.

**Chapter Length: **6k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **None. Well, Darcy. She deserves a warning tag.

**Chapter Summary:** Loki helps Jane Foster with the Einsten-Rosen bridge. Meanwhile, Tony and Bruce discover a weak spot in Earth's defense.

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

It took both Bruce and Steve to keep Tony from flying out of there in the Gemini prototype.

"I can try out the new Frannie on Fury's _face_ if he thinks he's gonna hurt—"

And of course, Steve had been the one to have to literally _hold Tony back,_ and thank God he had his super soldier strength — Tony _really_ wanted to get in that suit.

"It's okay, it's fine," he was saying, placating him as well as he could. "Loki can handle himself and Fury..." Hm. There was no defense for Fury. The guy was kind of rash. "It'll be fine, Tony. Fury's gonna call me back when the meeting's over. And I'll let you know, okay? I'm pretty sure Loki's tough enough to handle Fury."

That calmed Tony only somewhat, but the weaker man had given up struggling and slumped over the soldier's arms. "Fine," he seemed to pout. "You let me know. I swear, if he—"

"Tony, really, it's okay. Here, breathe with me," Banner offered, taking Tony from the Captain and holding him by the shoulders. The scientist forced Tony to do a few breathing exercises he'd learned in order to keep calm (Bruce was a treasure chest of calming techniques).

The engineer begrudgingly did them, puffing his cheeks out dramatically and blowing out air. At least Bruce wasn't feeding him his nasty-ass herbal infusions.

"See? Isn't that better?" Bruce murmured soothingly, sounding very Zen.

"Yeah, okay. I'm calm. I'm calm." Tony waved the two away and moved to take his seat. He'd already begun putting together an Aegis system to be incorporated into the suit, a feature that would project a protective field around the armor for a limited time. It would be a hell of a strain on the Gemini's power supply, but he was already planning to try and route Tesseract energy to these mobilized units in the same way he was going to fuel the 'big ones'.

Just keep distracted. They only had a few days left. Just keep working, Tony.

Loki would be fine.

Please let him be fine.

* * *

Loki placed his empty teacup back onto its saucer with a soft _tink!_ of colliding porcelain, and gave his two companions a very pleased smile. "We are in agreement, then?" he asked, looking from Fury to Hill.

Hill said nothing, merely glancing at Fury and waiting for him to decide, since he was her superior after all. Her cup of coffee sat cold and untouched where Loki's secretary had left it.

Fury didn't notice, or, if he did, he gave no indication. "We are."

They had drafted the terms and even signed on it. In return for Loki's services of organizing the war effort and keeping the mortals relatively unaffected by it, they would not prosecute him in any way. The contract called it 'consulting', although Loki had no idea what that meant. This, of course, conditional upon Loki relinquishing the 'throne', so to speak, after all was said and done.

Perfect. It had been Loki's plan all along — and _now_ he wouldn't even be in trouble.

Rogers had been in no position to promise the things he did last night, as he was only the captain of a small, if loyal, group with very little reach and even fewer resources. Fury and Hill had backed it up, however; they would ensure that their personnel delivered and installed the Framrherrlae in time, and that their operatives took care of any hostilities, or worse, _panic,_ that might break out amongst the populace, working in concert with the local law enforcement agencies.

They also offered something Loki had not been expecting: all the force of military power. Since the major cities were being evacuated as they spoke, the streets would be empty. They wished to fill them with tanks, missile launchers, soldiers, etc. — anything and anyone that would help protect the planet in case the Chitauri broke through the Aegis shield. Fury has a special dispensation from the WSC to take control of all military operations worldwide, and would Loki please allow it?

Loki would, and gladly, provided Fury would also take care of the supply lines and any disciplinary action that was necessary. He knew at last why Fury was so eager to help.

From the moment Loki arrived on Earth, not a single step Fury had taken had been his own decision to make. Some had been manipulated by Loki, some had been dictated by this vague yet menacing agency called World Security Council, the rest had been constrained by his rapidly diminishing power and good image. All Fury wanted was some measure of control.

Loki understood the sentiment. "I must say, Mr. Fury, I am very pleasantly surprised," he said, writing something on a piece of paper and putting it in his inner pocket, before standing up and buttoning his suit jacket as per human protocol. "I had no idea you were such a reasonable fellow." In fact, once the displays of dominance had finished, establishing them both as equals with a common enemy, and once the man had had his Irish coffee, Fury had become downright pleasant.

Fury stood up as well, followed by Hill, and he had the faintest of smiles on as he watched Loki round the desk. He took Loki's proffered hand and shook it — firmly, but not crushing it. "Likewise," he said curtly.

Smiling affably, Loki walked them to the door of his office, even going as far as to open the door for them. However, he paused, something crossing his mind, and closed the door again. "Why come to me _now_?" he asked them, genuinely confused about their motives.

"We have proof now," Hill said.

"And Romanov's evaluation," Fury added. "When even Captain Motherfucking America likes you enough to join your cause..." he trailed off, shrugging.

"I see," Loki nodded, although he didn't, not really. "Well, pleasure doing business with you." He held the door open for them again. "By the way. Agent Coulson has been asking to see you."

They froze in the doorway, turning incredulous eyes on him.

"Coulson?" Fury parroted, tense.

Smiling mysteriously, Loki took out the paper from his pocket and handed it over to Fury. It had the address to Coulson's hospital room. "Have a good day," he said pleasantly, closing the door in their gob smacked faces. Then, he grinned childishly.

_Good day,_ indeed.

Now, on the next order of business, he had a lunch date with Dr. Jane Foster. Surely she wouldn't mind terribly if he arrived an hour early?

* * *

Loki had never spoken with Jane Foster in person again after the one time, around a month into his reign, when he had realized he wouldn't be able to repel Thanos's force on his own, and set her free to work on re-inventing the Bifrost. However, he had intimate knowledge of her location at all times, as evidenced by last night's visit, since he had been extremely wary of her joining the Resistance.

Google Earth Street View was a marvelous invention, and he would personally thank whoever had come up with it. Having a visual of the place to where he would be teleporting cut down the preparation time he would otherwise waste scrying. (Loki wasn't actually very good scrying, although he had achieved a moderate skill level with millennia of practice.)

Still, out of politeness, he didn't teleport straight to Foster's side; instead, he reappeared right outside the warehouse he had gifted her to house her experiments, and knocked on the metal sheet that acted as door.

Three minutes and another knock later, the sheet rolled up, revealing the figure of a dark haired girl wearing glasses and chewing gum.

She took one look at Loki and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you again. What do you want now?" she asked, making a bubble of gum.

Loki's upper lip twitched in disgust at her irreverence. He tolerated Tony's because he cared for him and, initially, because the man was clever and powerful enough to back it up. Darcy, however, was completely useless in his eyes , and her general attitude simply rubbed him the wrong way. "Miss Lewis," he greeted her tonelessly, completely unamused. "I am here to see Dr. Foster. Is she around?"

The girl turned her face towards the inside of the warehouse, and yelled, "Boss, the head honcho is here!" Then, turning to Loki, she said, "Come on in."

Completely ignoring her as the bug beneath his notice that she was, Loki made his way through the labyrinth-like interior of the warehouse, following the sound of humming, which got progressively louder and more irritating the closer he got to the center.

Foster had her back turned to him, and she was hunched over some piece or other of equipment, adjusting dials.

The humming in his ears was giving Loki a headache, and he could feel Selvig's cold stare, although he wasn't sure where the mortal actually was . "Doctor Foster," Loki greeted, distinctly uncomfortable.

She jumped with a gasp, turning around to see who was behind her. She stared at him. "Loki," she said after a moment, and it was about as welcoming as Selvig's stare, "you are early."

Unimpressed, Loki returned her gaze. "I found myself with some free time earlier than expected, and decided to come see the progress you have made, now that you have Stark's arc reactor in your power."

Her expression turned sheepish, although he could see her jaw tensing in frustration. "We haven't made any," she answered, and he could hear reproach in her voice, though whether it was directed at him or at herself, he didn't know.

"I see," he said. It was only natural; the development of the Bifrost had taken the Aesir a very long time, from the time when Bor, Odin's father, became king and commissioned it, to the time he died and Odin succeeded him. Why had he thought a mortal, and one in love with _Thor_ of all people at that, could ever hope to recreate it? "I know this is your domain, but may I...?" he trailed off, looking around pointedly.

Foster shrugged. "By all means," she invited, moving aside.

She showed him around, pointing at each piece of equipment and explaining roughly that it was, what it did, and how it connected with everything else's function. She explained anything he asked about, like why she had chosen something in particular, or what the specifications of some of the equipment were.

By the end of the little tour, Loki had gained a lot of respect for this woman, and also he knew exactly what was wrong with her design.

"So? Any thoughts?" she asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest defensively.

Loki grinned at her. "Only that it should be working perfectly. Really, Dr. Foster, you have _outdone_ yourself." He patted the console that contained the on switch.

"Huh?" grunted the bug in her irritating voice. "Then why is it not working?"

"_Darcy!_" Foster chastised her with an angry whisper.

"It is quite alright," Loki appeased her. Sometimes a pet simply could not be trained. "An Einstein-Rosen bridge is merely a door that one opens and closes at one's leisure."

Darcy popped her gum. "Yeah, duh. So?"

But Jane snapped her fingers before Loki could answer. "We don't have the doorway," she guessed, smiling when Loki nodded at her, and then scowling. "But how do we make one?" she asked, looking like she was doing some calculations in her head.

"Well," Loki started, walking over to the circle of mirrors that Foster had set up as the connection point, "one might push a door into the wall of a house, if one has enough strength and does not worry about the integrity of the structure. That is what the Bifrost did." One could do it with enough power, but the sheer _amount_ needed would wipe out the Sun, and Foster knew it. "Alternately, one might find spots where the wall has already crumbled, and pass through there without bothering with installing a door, but natural portals are... _unpredictable_."

An understatement if Loki had ever said one. He would never travel through a natural portal again unless he knew it very well beforehand, since the last one had delivered him straight into the hands of Thanos after what felt like eons of travelling though the formless void between realms.

"So, what do we do?"

Loki grinned, now standing in the middle of the circle. "We take a small hammer," he spread his arms wide, "and chisel a way through."

Conscious that they were looking at him, he opened a portal to Asgard, his magic a scalpel made for operating on the tissue of reality. On the other side, one would see another portal to the golden spires of Asgard, brilliant in the setting of its star, separated from the one on Earth by an inch or two of the deepest, most terrifying emptiness. Loki reached a hand inside and pulled both edges together, pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. He dragged his hand around the edge, as if zipping the portals together, until there was no hint of the void ever having divided them.

He didn't cross into Asgard. Wasn't welcome there.

The portal closed instantly when he withdrew his hand, but the damage, so to speak, was done: the pathway was already there, any force, brute or not, would tear it open again.

Loki walked calmly out of the circle, to the gobsmacked looks of all three humans around him, and brushed his hands together, as if wiping dirt off them, signaling honest work well finished. "I think it will work now, Dr. Foster, but take care not to leave the doorway open too long." He smiled at them, pretending that his casual display of power was nothing special.

Foster blinked a couple of times. "Yes — yes, of course. We don't want the fabric of reality unraveling. Yes," she repeated, unable to take her eyes off Loki for more than a second.

Amused, Loki inclined his head. "Of course," he agreed. "Now, shall we have our lunch before or after you experiment with your new toy?"

"Oh, that sounds kinky," chimed Darcy from somewhere in the background, and both Loki and Jane ignored her comment.

"Sorry, Loki. I think I may have to cancel our lunch date, " the astrophysicist answered, her eyes flicking to her shiny new portal and lingering there.

Loki made a show of looking and sounding disappointed. "Very well. For science, I suppose I can sacrifice having some minutes of your time." He smiled at her flirtatiously, on purpose to unsettle her. "I understand the lure of successful experiments, myself."

She blushed slightly. "Yes — thank you. Later, then?"

They both knew 'later', in their case, meant 'never'.

"Later," Loki conceded. "And please, do bring Thor and his goons over as soon as you get that stable? I expect Thanos will be arriving between tomorrow night and midday of the next day." He smiled guilelessly, as if he had not just reminded her of their bleak future.

Darcy whistled low. "Too close for comfort, that."

For once, they were in agreement.

"Yes, and I'll let you know when we are done so you can transport your missiles."

Jane Foster. So clever. She was _wasted_ on Thor.

"Please do. Farewell, then," Loki said, waving a hand at them and winking at Selvig, finally spotting him, before teleporting into Stark Tower.

He would be damned if he wasted the opportunity to take a lunch break.

* * *

Tony sat amongst a pile of greasy burgers that he'd had ordered and delivered to him, which were left untouched the second they arrived at the lab. Bruce was taking his break by munching on a salad completely unrelated to said burgers. The Captain had left their company to go and speak with the assassins elsewhere, and the scientists had kept on working.

"You should really take a break. Six cups of coffee does _not _equal lunch, Tony," Bruce scolded from the side, unable to convince the other to quit working for a breath of a second.

"And... Shield!" Tony shouted, ignoring Bruce and thrusting his hand out.

The Gemini gauntlet over his hand flipped open several tiny compartments, minute lasers crisscrossing and forming a bubble of energy around the end of his hand. It was patterned, the translucent surface reflecting subtle flashes of color here and there, like the surface of oil.

Tony turned to Bruce. "Okay, come on Bruce. Throw something at me. Anything will do. Your fork," he said, holding up his arm and putting the shield at face level.

The scientist just looked mildly incredulous. "I'm eating."

"Then take off a shoe, I don't care! Come on. I need to test this!"

Bruce, ever patient, rolled his eyes and sighed, looking for something to throw. He decided his shoe _was _his best option and set his salad plate on his knee, removing his shoe and taking aim. He closed one eye, sticking his tongue out, and purposefully looked like he was going to aim lower than suggested.

Tony caught on quickly and frowned, "Hey buddy, eyes up here, okay?"

The both of them chuckled before Bruce hurled the shoe. Tony flinched, holding the shield held up.

The shoe not only did _not_ break the impenetrable barrier, but it stopped dead and fell straight down.

The scientist looked at each other before looking back to the shoe at Tony's feet.

"It _absorbs_ kinetic energy," Tony marveled, watching the surface ripple with light before returning to its normal transparent state.

Bruce looked at the space where the shield had been and had an awful thought. "Hey, Tony, what's Frannie's lowest setting? I want to try something. Can you put the Aegis around something else?" Something preferably not alive, or precious to Loki.

The engineer was looking over the gauntlet before Bruce chimed up. "Hmm?" he blinked. "Jarvis, set Frannie to her lowest setting and extend the Aegis to, uh..." he looked around on the cluttered work table, fishing around and grabbing a disused Mark 7 helmet that had been damaged by something or another. "This. To this." He set it on the corner of the table along with the gauntlet. He had yet to work on the projection distance.

The lights, moving in a similar manner to the holographic projections, began to encompass the empty helmet.

"Okay. What are you thinking, Bruce?"

"Something I _really_ hope I'm wrong about," Bruce answered, before biting his lip and trying to remember the frequency of the Aegis oscillations he had just seen. "Jarvis, please shoot at the shield. Start at," he did a quick calculation, "four times per second, and increase the frequency until you have natural resonance."

Frannie, wearing a bow made of tinfoil, started shooting, making cute _pew pew_ sound effects. The tiny gun laid a barrage of timed fire against the shield, which flickered with the attacks just as it had before.

Waves rippled across the surface again, like rain droplets against a puddle.

Bruce looked at Tony out the corner of his eye. "Do you know what will happen if we hit resonance?"

"Yeah. Not good things," Tony frowned, watching Frannie go to work. He joined Bruce behind the workbench, resting his elbows on his knees and scratching at his beard.

They watched anxiously as Jarvis increased the frequency.

The ripples got bigger and bigger in amplitude very soon, until, at maybe twenty-ish hertz, it seemed the light of the shield was in two places at once. It still managed to stop maybe ninety-ish percent of the shots, but the other ten-ish got through well enough, painting scorch marks on the poor helmet.

They exchanged looks.

Tony grunted in frustration. "Damnit," he groaned, pulling his fingers through his hair. He needed to fix this quickly. If the energy was being absorbed so quickly, he was going to have to figure out how to change the resonance frequency of the Aegis. Was there enough time?

Bruce swallowed reflexively, feeling a little pale. "Jarvis, increase the power of the shots. Let's see what high-energy resonance does to it." He really hoped it wouldn't break explosively and remain broken, or then the Chitauri ships would get through. If it didn't break, it would still be letting about one of every ten ships through — and, according to Loki, the fleet numbered in the millions — but it would be far more preferable.

It was around the 1000 to 1100 megajoule range (Frannie on a mid-to-high setting; thank fuck for the Tesseract powering everything) that the areas of impact began to radiate incandescence, becoming incredibly bright, and after it had absorbed enough, there was a loud humming that filled the room.

Bruce grabbed Tony's arm and started pulling him behind himself, but he hadn't reacted fast enough.

"Aw, fu—"

_BOOM!_

In the way of science, many things exploded, and in this case, it was a brilliant spectacle that shoved Tony and Bruce out of their seat.

Toppling over, Tony felt the heat touch his skin before he was pulled completely behind Bruce, and he was pretty sure he'd probably lost a bit of arm hair after raising it protectively. "Whoashit," Tony groaned, looking quickly at his reddened shoulder (he was gonna need some ice for that) and then to the plumes of plasma emanating from point of impact the Aegis.. "That," Tony scoffed, "Is definitely not good."

There was a wounded roar to his left.

Tony realized who he was with, and, still lying on his back, began scrambling away.

* * *

Having asked Jarvis where Tony was, Loki had been about to enter the lab to look for him when he heard the explosion, and he ran the rest of the way, his armor appearing reflexively around him in a flash of golden light. Jarvis opened the door for him, and he skidded to a stop inside, alert and looking for attackers.

He saw nothing but the blackened and smoking section of the lab.

Had Tony been vaporized by the attack?

He shook his head, clearing it of such dark thoughts, and looked harder. He saw Tony's foot peeking out from behind the workbench, and he understood at once what had happened.

The explosion was nothing more that some experiment going wrong. No attack. No infiltration.

He approached his lover, finding him in a sprawl next to Bruce, who had some burns that were bleeding green, the same color of eyes. .

The scientist was managing to contain the Beast even as it healed him rapidly.

Amazing resilience, that man. Loki couldn't care about him, though — Tony had no Beast to protect him. He focused on him, and his arm and shoulder.

The clothing had burnt away, protecting his skin somewhat, but the heat of the explosion had reached him nonetheless.

Loki gathered the still mildly shocked Tony into his lap, his hands flying over his head and chest, looking for any bones that might have been broken in the impact. "Are you well, Tony?" he asked, placing his bare hands on the worst of Tony's burn and letting the ice in his core come through.

"Yep. I'm uh, I'm good. As good as anyone taking an explosion to the face," Tony blinked up at the face of his lover, his ears still ringing from the blast. "The pain is amazing. Been through worse though," he laughed half-heartedly before he realized, "—hey. You're home early. Missed me, didja?"

"Not really. I had some free time." Loki's hands turned blue and full of ugly lines, but Loki told himself it was worth it, being a Jotun and accepting it long enough to use those powers, if it would help Tony. He did take care, though, not to let his skin get too cold, lest he make Tony's burn worse by adding frostbite to it.

Tony gave his biggest grin, trying to focus on both of Loki's faces swimming around. The alien god was resorting to jokes and sarcasm, clear evidence of his worry for Tony. When he felt the touch of cold (a godsend, really), Tony twisted his head to see... blue. Loki's hand was _blue._ What was that? Trying to ignore the multitudes of pissed-off pain receptors, he shifted through muddled thoughts, trying to work this out.

Wait. Frost giant. Loki was a frost giant, right.

He relaxed again, falling limp on Loki's lap.

Seeing how a corner of Tony's face was also red, Loki moved a hand to cup it gently, feeling Tony's natural warmth burn against his skin. "Tony?" he asked again.

"Mmm?" Tony asked, not sure on which Loki's eyes he should focus.

Loki greeted him with a cheerful "Hello," a smile, and a little wave.

"Hi." Tony's head rocked and resettled in the god's lap, looking up like a child with an equally childlike smile. Despite the pain, he was happy like this. "That's amazing, thanks. I'm fine though, you should maybe check on Bruce," he said, trying not to look too satisfied and failing poorly at it. He reached up to cup the god's pale cheek, smoothing his hands up and realizing—oh—helmet.

He was too dazed to care, fingers moving up to a horn and grabbing it sluggishly. "What's the occasion, Baby?" Tony had to admit. The impressive get-up did bring back some interesting memories. He blinked.

_Waitfuck._

That was the same look when he'd been captured and thrown into a cell and _no no no_ he didn't want that. The engineer began to scramble away, small squeaks issuing from him before he convinced himself that _NO_ Loki was the goddamn love of his life, and that he didn't say crap like that lightly. At least, say it and _mean it._ This was still the god he wanted to protect, the thought enough to make Tony slump higher against Loki's body with a tired sigh. "It's not working like I wanted to," Tony groaned, out of context. His mind was all over the place.

Loki held him, letting his hands go back to normal. "I had gathered. The explosion was a clue," he murmured into his ear, forcing himself to smile, and trying not to let on how unsettled he still was from the look of naked terror he had just seen in Tony's face.

_'What was that?_' he wondered, rubbing Tony's chest and belly gently from behind, kissing the crown of his head supportively. '_Was he afraid of _me?' He despaired for a moment, thinking that perhaps Tony had been scared of Loki's _monstrosity_; then, he recalled that Tony hadn't reacted at all at the cold, blue hands, except maybe to study them with a scientist's curiosity.

No, the fear had come when he'd seen Loki, when he had reached up and touched Loki's helmet.

_Oh._

Of course. _The armor_. Tony had last seen it when Loki first invaded his home, killed — as far as he knew at the moment — one of his friends, called forth a wormhole and an army, tossed him out the window like so much trash, when he had captured Tony after his flying into the portal in a suicide run with a missile on his back... Too many bad associations.

Loki might have to get himself new armor. With a sigh, he dispelled the armor into a flash of light, leaving him only in the soft, light woolen suit he had worn that morning. Tony fell closer to him, now that layers of boiled leather and ornate metal weren't separating them, and Loki could feel the warmth of his body seep through their clothes. His arms trembled a little around Tony's midsection, and he felt like apologizing. He didn't though. Instead, he petted his lover again, nuzzling his cheek, helping him calm down. He would have asked more about Tony's problem, but he had a feeling it would only serve to wind him up again, so he asked, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

. "Oh, uh, no. I haven't eaten yet. Haven't had time. Wow," he blinked at the clock. Shit, time really flown. Tony looked almost embarrassed towards the gathering of coffee cups around his general work area.

"I have," came Bruce's voice, sounding a lot less strained than it would have five minutes before. " I think I'll take a break now, how's that sound?" he asked pleasantly, getting up and shedding his white coat. Whole sections of it had been burned to a crisp when he had shielded Tony with his body, either trusting the other guy to keep him from harm or not thinking it would matter much if he was injured, compared to Tony. He didn't really know if it had been some deathwish or a genuine protective instinct, though he was leaning towards the latter; living with Tony and Loki was doing wonders for his self-esteem.

Seeing how he was still tinged green, Loki nodded mutely.

"Bye, then." Bruce left the lab to the lovebirds. He was overdue for some yoga anyway. And maybe some pot, but he would _never_ admit that to Tony.

Tony gave a wave towards the retreating scientist, still catching his breath as he watched the man take the main elevator up. He knew Bruce had saved him, and _aw_. Fucking heartwarming. Really, he had a soft spot for Banner. He'd have to pay him back somehow, maybe hook him up with a nice girl (or guy?) after all of this was over. Or buy him an island or something. Or both.

Shuffling to sit up, Tony brushed his hand through his hair again and checked his arm. Well. There went his arm hair, yep. The skin was reddened, blistering, but Loki had taken off much of the immediate pain. "Ugh, thanks," he said, finally noticing Loki had removed his armor and feeling much better about everything. Tony pecked a kiss against his lover's chin and moved to stand, offering a hand for the other before stalking towards a mounted first aid kit.

Yeah. This wasn't his first rodeo.

He knocked a fist against it and it swung open. Digging around, he found salve and a bandage. The man was pretty good operating with only one hand thanks to years of misbehaving experiments.

"I seem to recall some burgers I spied scattered around as I came in, but they looked unappetizing. I could make some for you," Loki offered, swatting Tony's hand away from the medical supplies. "Allow me," he said, gesturing to a stool for Tony to sit on.

"Not really in the mood for food," Tony replied in a low voice, taking his seat and looking away — he hated being babied, but he knew it was actually better if Loki did the first aid. "If you're cooking, though, I might just get an appetite."

Loki sat as well and proceed to spread the salve onto Tony's skin with gentle touches, his hands blue and cold again to help dull the pain some more. "Then, I will cook." He paid special care to Tony's hand, wanting the skin there to heal very, very well. Tony needed to be able to move that hand and attached fingers with precision to do his tinkering.

They shared a silence while he put a bandage on the arm, loose and airy so the skin could breathe but not so loose it would move against Tony's skin and irritate it further, or catch on something and come off.

When he was done, he patted Tony's knee and smiled at him. "Let's get some food in you, my dear," he said, offering Tony his hand. "Close your eyes," he reminded him by habit, before making a portal to the kitchen and taking both of them through it.

Upon arrival, Tony grinned at Loki. "Have I ever told you I like travelling like that a lot?" he asked.

"Yep." Loki stole a peck and got to work, whipping up hamburgers for Tony, who was probably still wanting some, since he hadn't got to eat the ones he had ordered. Nothing special this time, just cheese on the meat and fries on the side, and soon enough they were sitting at a corner of the huge table, eating.

"Aw, sweet. I got Loki burgers instead," Tony hummed happily, sitting alongside his lover and enjoying the food. "Not to dis Burger King, but it really can't hold a candle."

"You never did tell me which thing in particular did not work as you wanted it to," Loki reminded Tony as he served him Coke from the bottle.

When the work was mentioned though, Tony looked crestfallen. "I..." he sighed, chewing on a fry. "The Aegis. It's still flawed; there isn't enough time to perfect it. It's impenetrable up to a point. If it's barraged at the right frequency, it becomes... unstable." He ran a hand over his face, setting down the half-eaten burger. He still needed to shave, to shower, to do everything, but there was no time.

"Is it fixable?" Loki asked, mostly just to prod Tony out of his thousand-yard stare.

"There's just no time." Tony exhaled, scowling. "You saw it. The attacks get through, and when it's reached its peak, there's a localized blast. It's enough to funnel incoming units, but that's just the thing. We don't _want_ close combat. That was _supposed_ to be the—!" he thumped a hand down hard on the table, their plates and glasses shuddering. "That's why I built it. It was supposed to keep them out." Tony gripped his hair in both hands, lowering his head. "I'm sorry, Loki. I'm really sorry. I'm trying. I'm trying my best but it's not enough. Not yet. I'll protect you, even if I have to do it myself." If it came down to donning his suit and fighting off the Chitauri until his last breath, so be it. He'd make sure they _hurt_ before he fell.

Smiling indulgently, Loki stood up from his chair and walked behind Tony. "Relax, Dear," he said, massaging Tony's shoulders into un-tensing, loving the deep groan it earned him. "Their strategy relies on quantity, not quality. There is no technique to their army other than 'overwhelm with numbers'." He pulled Tony back into the chair, bringing his head to a rest next to Loki's belly. His hands dug into Tony's scalp, not worrying about leaving traces of hamburger grease on the tresses, since they already had an oily buildup from Tony's lack of showering this morning. Loki saw Tony's eyes close in pleasure and grinned, carding his fingers through in a steady massage.

"Mmm, god. Did anyone ever tell you that you have magic fingers?" Tony purred under the small treatments that came from Loki, finding himself relaxing and becoming like putty under Loki's hands.

"They will have to be extraordinarily lucky to find the right frequency," Loki continued, breathing in the natural musk of his lover. He would like to taste it, one day; to have Tony in his arms in all his unperfumed glory. '_Later_,' he reminded himself, biting the inside of his lips, '_when we have all the time in the world._' So he inhaled again, enjoying the scent while he could, and continued, "And even if they do manage, they will never be able to replicate it, hm?"

"Really?" Tony asked, voice small, opening his eyes and tilting his head back to look up at Loki.

"Yes, really." Loki took a step back so he could bend over and lovingly kiss Tony's plump, soft lips, his whiskers prickling Loki's smooth complexion. He needed the kiss as well; Loki may not have needed reassurance, but he was anxious about the upcoming battle too, and he needed the comfort.

And when they parted, Tony stroked his thumb over the other's fingers, reassuring them both with simple touches. Loki knew just what to say.

Granted, of course, Tony was still trying to calculate the probabilities of the chances the Chitauri army had of both finding the right frequency of attack and discovering how to replicate the same offense again. He was missing variables though. The size of the invasion, the method of attack, the weapons they would be using (he would have to assume they were the same as they had used in Manhattan, though there was lots of room for surprises).

Tony sighed. This was so far out of his league still, at least at the moment. Give or take a few months and he was sure he'd have foolproof ways to wipe the ugly bugs clean out of existence.

Kissing Tony again, Loki let go of him and took his seat again, though his hand remained on Tony's, the contact anchoring him.

With a small thanks, Tony resumed eating with one hand. He didn't dare remove the hand holding Loki's.

Loki was about to resume eating as well when he remembered Fury's surprise visit, and smiled smugly. "By the by, did you know I had words with Nicholas Fury this morning? He ended up being surprisingly reasonable."

Tony paused, remembering how Rogers had had to physically restrain him. "What? No kidding." Well that was surprising. "Fury, reasonable? That's news to my ears," the billionaire snorted around his burger. "When Steve told me, I was sooo sure he'd do _something_ to you. You're telling me he didn't attack you then? That doesn't sound very Fury-like to me."

"Oh, he did," Loki cheerfully reassured the man that his worldview was still intact, waving the bit of burger speared on the tip of his fork this way and that emphatically before putting it in his mouth. "Much the same way two wolves who are leaders of their respective packs will bare their teeth and snap at each other's jaws. It was harmless, really."

"Huh." Tony looked impressed. So Fury believed himself to be an equal to Loki? Oh, the man was in for a surprise. "So, what did he want?"

Loki wiped his mouth of condiments and kissed Tony's hand before letting go of it. "Indeed. Fury will be helping us, after all." He detailed exactly what 'helping' would entail, watching Tony's eyes grow wider with every term. Licking his lips, his eyes shining with mischief, Loki added, "He even decided to trade me immunity in exchange for giving back Planet Earth to humans afterwards," with a wicked grin.

Tony had to snort at that.

They finished eating in peace, both of them relaxing for the first time in the day since their high-strung wake-up, and then Loki helped Tony wash up. There was plenty sprinkling of Tony with dirty dishwater, under the excuse that he "couldn't possibly get more dirty," and a lot of smacking each other on the ass with dish towels, but they managed to finish washing and putting away everything before dissolving into a heated make out session.

Which Jarvis interrupted with, "Loki, message from Jane Foster."

Loki unstuck his mouth from the salty, musky skin of Tony's neck and pulled back, sharing a look and a grin with his lover. "Read it for me?" he panted, slightly out of breath, lost in Tony's blown pupils, loving how much Tony wanted him right now.

Jarvis ignored their frolicking, as he'd been programmed to do. "_Loki, the portal is stable. I'm ready to try to get Thor from Asgard. You are invited to watch,_" he read aloud, as asked.

_Oh_.

Right. Thor.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 8th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Foster gave the signal by raising her arm straight in front of her and lowering it sharply. Somewhere in the back of the machinery, Selvig activated the circuit that would lend enough energy to the tear in the fabric of the universe to form an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and the portal appeared as a great circle of light through which they could see into Asgard._

_And the ten score soldiers, plus Thor, silhouetted against the setting star._

* * *

**End notes:**

THOR! And it only took 26 chapters!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	26. Brothers

**Chapter Title: **Thor and Loki

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki finally being Thor over. They have a reunion.

**A/N: **This fic is the result of MONTHS of rp with DerrDoktor, AKA, myheadisbleeding (on tumblr). I played Loki, she played Tony, and we juggled the rest of the characters together. We have 142k written so far, of which 100k are ready to post, so I'll be updating every monday and thursday. The projected length of this fic is between 170k and 200k, so, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki swallowed, playful mood all gone, and dropped his arms from around Tony's waist, taking a step back from him. "Of course. Please tell her I will come over," he asked Jarvis, eyes dancing around nervously. "That is the other piece of good news," he told Tony, eyes slightly wide around the edges. "Thor will be coming over with an army."

"Ngh, remind me not to mention Thor whenever we're doing this," Tony grunted as he shifted with obvious discomfort, skin pinked where Loki's mouth had been on him. He straightened himself out, his shirt needing only the press of a hand to look halfway decent. Right, they had an invasion to deal with. "So you actually managed to recreate the Einstein-Rosen bridge..." he mused, breathless. "Hang on, an _army_? Like, Asgardians? They're gonna help us?" Tony's wide eyes looking only more rounded with his pupils dilated as they were. "That's great, wow, that's more than great."

Tony gave Loki a look. "Thor must really have a soft spot for you, if he's bringing the whole gang."

"He mostly has a soft spot for your planet," Loki answered, licking his lips. He was not too sure Tony's assertion wasn't right, but he didn't want it to be anyway. If he didn't need Asgard's help to save the universe, he wouldn't even have spoken with Thor about it. "Also, his people understand that, should Midgard fall, Thanos will have access to their realm as well, and at least they are clever enough to wish to prevent that."

More like, Loki had convinced the smart, seasoned warriors to help despite their hatred of all things Loki using that exact argument. Thor's addition that it would be "a glorious battle" had persuaded the rest, since naturally battle was all the young, hot-headed warriors cared about. Odin had kept quiet, except for a small, proud smile directed — surprise, surprise! — at Loki, which of course he had ignored.

This was wonderful news, doing a bit to ease Tony's frayed nerves (though Loki had been doing a wonderful job making him forget, just a few moments ago). "If the Aegis can hold off those ugly bugs long enough for Thor's army and mine to pick them off, that'll work." He sought out Loki's gaze, "I'm just worried about the head honcho. I'm flying blind, I've got nothing on him. You think he'll show?"

Loki clenched his eyes shut, trying and failing not to picture Thanos himself coming over to watch the battle. He swallowed, pushing down the primal fear the notion instilled in him, ignoring the cold sweat forming on his skin. Oh, dear, what if his lady love came with him?

"It depends," he answered at last, locking gazes with Tony and brushing his knuckles along the side of his face. "On whether he thinks highly of us or not. If he decides we are good opponents, difficult to kill and worthy of life, he will feel inclined to come watch it happen. Those he feels are the best-quality tributes, he will likely wish to kill himself." The tenderness with which he was regarding Tony made it clear who Loki thought was most likely to be that tribute.

Loki was worried for Tony. Very worried.

"And now I must go meet the man who calls himself my brother, and ensure he will fight with us." He kissed Tony in farewell. "As always, call me if you need anything."

He parted from Tony with one last caress to his face and teleported to Jane Foster's domain. He didn't bother appearing at the door this time, instead materializing before her. "Afternoon," he greeted.

It startled her, of course, but she didn't let it affect her. "Hello again. Everything is ready," she said, motioning to the set up taking most of the space on the warehouse's floor.

Loki nodded. "Very well," he sighed, steeling himself for what was to come, the insults and glares he would have to endure. "Let them through." He moved away from her line of sight, instead choosing to stand beside her.

He found it both endearing and worthy of admiration that she hadn't primped in any way — not changed clothes into something not rumpled, or reapplied make-up, or even combed her hair — in preparation for meeting her beloved Thor. Yes, she would be good for him. Finally a woman who did not bend over backwards to please the Thunder God.

Foster gave the signal by raising her arm straight in front of her and lowering it sharply. Somewhere in the back of the machinery, Selvig activated the circuit that would lend enough energy to the tear in the fabric of the universe to form an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and the portal appeared as a great circle of light through which they could see into Asgard.

And the ten score soldiers, plus Thor, silhouetted against the setting star.

* * *

While Loki was off having a family reunion, Tony got back to work, beginning with his attempt to try and minimize the window of opportunity for the Chitauri to breach the Aegis shield. Hours were spent pouring over testing and data, with the engineer moving the testing to the proper wing of the laboratory, widening the protective field around an actual dummy and firing a plethora of different weapons at it.

Jarvis did well to record all of the data, all physical ammunition seemingly rendered ineffective. The energy-based weaponry was a different story. As already proven, his own Framrherrlae technology could punch a sizeable hole ("Whew, it's going to be quite a fireworks show when the big boys go off", he told Bruce) through the Aegis.

"If I remember correctly," Tony plucked around on his screens, looking through his goggles with an ash-blackened face, "SHIELD had recovered one of the Chitauri weaponry in their custody. What was it? Item..."

"47, Sir."

"That. I want it." With relative ease, Stark broke into SHIELD's weapons databases and found what he was looking for (and then some, helloooo reverse-engineered Destroyer gun), downloading the schematics and early testing videos onto a private server. Fury was so going to kill him; you know, if he ever found out. That wouldn't happen though, Jarvis had been prepared to deal with the same attacks he himself was doing to SHIELD's databases. There was no way anyone was gonna go poking around in _his_ stuff.

It didn't take long to repurpose one of his own energy blasters and calibrate the energy signature to match that of the confiscated Chitauri weapon, firing it upon the Aegis as well.

Same deal.

The signatures were similar and so, when fired at the same rate and frequency, give or take a few hertz, it yielded similar results to that of the Framrherrlae.

"Bah," Tony threw up his hands, heavily gloved. "So I essentially recreated their own weaponry," he shook his head, spinning in his chair. There wasn't enough time. He'd need to change the actual properties of the projected field, try different energy outputs, but there was too much room for error and despite the obvious flaws with the current model, he knew what worked and didn't. It was too risky to start from scratch with so little time. And they were already being built.

"I need to get out there, see them in action," Tony said, lifting from his chair and chugging down another cup of lukewarm coffee. "Bruce, where's the closest location we shipped Frannie parts to? I have to see them in action, I need to make sure they're being built properly." He was trying his best not to panic, already having Jarvis prep one of the Mark 39s for flight. "It's like handing tools to a bunch of monkeys. I don't trust them, I have to make sure."

He was already stepping backwards into the unfurled suit, the white and matte black armor curling over his body protectively in a matter of seconds. He could test the suit out while he was out for a breath of fresh air, checking up on the production of the Frannies and Aegis towers. Kill two birds with one stone, right?

* * *

Thor had made exactly one attempt to smother Loki in a hug as soon as he crossed over.

It was quite the sight, really: Loki, dressed in a suit and a tie, modern mortal armor from a time when battles were fought in offices with contracts and signatures, rebuffing Thor clad in boiled leather, chainmail and a chest plate with a hand to his face and single word: "No."

Thor had slumped like a kicked puppy, staring at Loki woefully, his eyes heavy with apologies and brotherly love, but Loki had ignored his pitiful display, instead standing tall and general-like for the inbound Aesir soldiers to see.

A hug from Thor would have ruined that image entirely. Loki would have transitioned from Capable-Conqueror-of-Midgard and Powerful-Ally-Against-Thanos to Thor's-Baby-Brother-In-Distress and Argr-Who-Bit-Off-More-Than-He-Could-Chew(-As-Alway s). Thor really had no head for politics; Loki was sure Asgard would be in a war by the end of his first year of reign.

Thor didn't stay down long, though; he practically flew towards his dear lady Jane and presented her towards his army and his friends as "This be my beloved Lady Jane, whose cleverness and knowledge of science know no bounds." They _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over her.

The corner of Loki's mouth twitched. Yet again, he had been overlooked, passed over in favour of Thor's new wench. To be fair, Jane Foster was a pretty decent person, but the Aesir didn't know that. They just knew that she was the apple of Thor's eye. But Loki wasn't as resentful as he could have been — the whole situation just validated his feeling that Asgard was no longer his home.

Never had been, really.

A tap to his shoulder made Loki turn, only to find Sif holding out a small, cloth-covered package. "A gift, from your mother," she said.

Loki stared down at it, arching an eyebrow. "I have no mother," he answered contrarily, although he knew perfectly well whom she was speaking about.

Sif looked unimpressed. "A gift from _your queen_, then, Loki," she insisted.

Glaring at her, Loki took it. After making it disappear into his vast extra-dimensional pocket, he said, "I have no queen, either," with no little amount of satisfaction. He was a citizen of Earth now, and while Earth had very few monarchies left, fewer of them in power, Loki answered to none of them.

Sif grit her teeth, her hand clenching at her side, to Loki's delight. "A peace offering, from the queen of the realm you allied yourself with."

Loki levelled an indifferent gaze at her. "Now, _that_ is the truth. To think you called _me_ a liar, Sif." Growing bored of dealing with her, he ignored her in favour of retrieving Thor, the commander of his small army, from the throng of golden-haired Aesir.

He would have needed to push, elbow his way through it like some uncouth dog in the marketplace, were it not for his magic. It had grown in leaps and bounds ever since he'd let go of that damned spear, and even more since coming to Midgard and having every single human learn his name. Some of them even prayed to him, which hadn't happened in more than a thousand Earthian years, and their faith gave him even more power.

There were many spectacular ways he could have parted the mob — call forth a gale of wind, or mayhaps a fire, or even a localised quake to physically make himself a path, if only they weren't in Jane Foster's warehouse, standing in the middle of her experiment. He chose a sneakier way.

Loki walked far from the Aesir army and into the unused office of the warehouse, passing a glaring Selvig on the way and winking at him. Once he was alone, it was a simple matter of making a portal that led to the space immediately next to Thor, reaching a hand inside, and pulling the confused Prince of Asgard through before it closed.

"Brother?" Thor asked, relaxing at once when he spotted Loki.

"No," Loki answered simply. "Please, take a seat, that we might discuss tactics," he said after an uncomfortable pause, gesturing to one of the chairs while he unbuttoned his suit. He sat down on the other one, making sure to sprawl rudely on it, his legs wide open despite feeling the urge to close them defensively. He knew Thor would understand his body language — _this is my dominion, I do not fear you, I am completely confident_ — on some instinctual level.

Thor didn't sit, though. "Brother!" It was nearly a shout, but there was more anguish and betrayal in it than anger. His mouth worked open and closed several times, as if he wanted to say so many things to Loki that they clogged his throat, his tongue unable to decide which to say first.

Loki sighed, dropping his gaze, before leaning sideways and resting his chin in his palm boredly. "Are you done yet? Please, do tell me when you are done, Thor, so we may prodeed," he said mercilessly, examining his fingernails.

It was insanely cruel of him, to belittle Thor's feelings like this... But then again, Thor had belittled Loki's feelings for millennia, telling him off when he acted as he felt was right, praising him when he pretended to be more like Thor and Odin and made the supreme effort of asking himself what an Ás would do and think in his position. And, well, Loki couldn't deny feeling very satisfied at Thor's expression.

The Thunder God, his ex-brother, was staring at Loki looking for all the world completely heartbroken. Thor blinked, clenching his eyes shut before opening them again full of tears, and he said, disbelievingly, "Loki, you..."

"Oh, look! He learns!" Loki interrupted, appearing devastatingly pleased, smiling at Thor in the same indulgent manner one might smile at a child that has done some trick. "Will you _please_ sit down? I have no wish to endure this unpleasant business any longer than I have to."

Thor bit his lip and swallowed audibly. He blinked again — a fat tear rolled down his cheek — bowing his head in defeat, and finally took his seat. "You hold no love for me." His voice rang hollow.

"I do not," Loki lied. "I did once, when it was required of me by virtue of Odin deceiving us and calling us brothers." Oh, yes, he considered Thor a victim of Odin's lies as well. But it wasn't enough to absolve him of blame.

"But we _are_ brothers!" Thor insisted, his hands clenching on his knees. "_I _love you, at least. Is that not enough?" His cheeks were wet with his silent weeping, but he made no motion to dry them.

"No. You do not love me," Loki answered, finally giving into the urge and allowing his legs to cross defensively. "Do you recall what was the first thing you said to me, after having believed me _dead_ for over a month, Thor?"

Thor looked balefully at him. "You are going to tell me." His shoulders were slumped and hunched forward.

Loki nodded. " '_Where is the Tesseract?' _" he quoted, his voice raw with sheer _hurt_ even if his face was impassive. His eyes may have been wet as well. He had not forgiven Thor yet for that one.

Thor recoiled as if Loki had punched him. "I thought you dead—" he started explaining before his voice gave out. Thor's voice, always so strong and loud, now shaking and catching. He swallowed again. "I thought you_ dead, _and I thought some _creature_ was wearing your face, dishonoring you!"

Well. That certainly made more sense than Loki actually surviving a fall from the Bifrost. And yet...

Loki narrowed his eyes. "You _lie_," he delighted, a cold smile spreading on his lips. "I saw the footage of the Helicarrier, did you know?" he asked, putting the fingers of both hands together and resting them upon his ugly smile. "You knew what my army was called even before I told anyone. You _knew_ who it was that had taken me, and yet, you _left me there_. You, out of all of them!" he yelled, losing his composure completely. "You, who claim to be _my brother_!" he snarled.

"I did not know!" Thor cried, seeking Loki's eyes earnestly. "Father only told me when he sent me here. He told me," he sobbed. "He told me only, '_Thor, there is a man wearing Loki's likeness about to invade Midgard. He has an army, the Chitauri, and he seeks the Tesseract for the Mad Titan_.' " He looked absolutely wrecked.

Probably at his father lying to him so outrageously. If Loki hadn't seen it happen before, he would have believed Odin just as easily on that. "Thor, I know not if you know this, but Odin _lies_."

Thor wailed. "You think I know that not, now?" he asked, his eyes burning with rage and shame and tears. "Once I had time to think about it, I knew. He must have seen it before; the sight from Hliðskjálf is long and far-reaching. Heimdall must have seen. And they did not tell me."

The following silence was full of tortured gasps, shared tears and avoided gazes.

Then Loki broke it, shrugging. "I trusted you would come get me," he confessed, finally exposing what had him feeling so betrayed, above all else. "I was taunted for it, but I still hoped."

"Brother!" Thor tried to silence him.

"_No!_" Loki shouted. "I have no brother! I _need_ no brother! I _waited_, and you did not come to help me. So I learned to help _myself_." He glowered at Thor, partially hating him all the more for forcing him to talk about this when all he wanted was to discuss military strategy, and then grit his teeth and looked away, seething, his hands shaking.

Next thing he knew, Thor had enveloped him in a hug.

Loki screamed, "Unhand me! Unhand me!" over and over, hitting Thor with arms and legs and bolts of wild magic that rose in response to his fear and fury. "You_ do not_ deserve to hold me! Unhand me!"

But Thor held him throughout, clutching him close and burying his face in the crook of Loki's neck, breathing him in. "I will never let go of you again," he said, voice hoarse but ringing true, "even if I have to renounce my claim to the throne of Asgard."

Loki finally calmed down at that, though he didn't return the embrace. There was something primal inside him, something more than instinct, more than force of habit, that still associated Thor's presence with safety; and, despite all his success and planning and Tony's cleverness at making weapons, for the first time since letting go of Gungnir and Odin's hold on him, Loki felt that things were going to be okay.

So he kicked Thor in the shin. "Oh, let go of me, you insufferable oaf!" His voice was muffled against Thor's shoulder, but there was no anger or hate or reproach in it.

Thor howled in pain, letting him go at last. "Ow, Loki! You_ always_ kick me there!" he complained, standing on one leg to rub at the sore spot of the other one, pouting at Loki.

Loki was inordinately pleased that Thor hadn't called him 'Brother' — there had been times in his life when he had wondered if Thor even _remembered_ his name at all — but he didn't mention it, not wanting to jinx it in case it hadn't been on purpose. "Because you deserve it, Thor. For being an idiot. And ruining my Armani with your snot."

Clearly, Thor agreed with the assessment, because he held his hand out. "Give me a knife."

Loki looked down at him, eyebrow arched. "What makes you think I am carrying one at all?"

"Loki." Thor said nothing else, clearly believing them to be past words at this point. He knew Loki too well, clearly.

Huffing, Loki produced a small knife from his sleeve and offered it hilt first to Thor.

Thor took it and made a cut on his left palm, before offering the bloody knife back to Loki expectantly.

Loki's eyes went from Thor's bleeding hand — '_The one with the straightest path to the heart,_' the thought came unbidden — to his pleading eyes and back, trying to work out if Thor really meant what Loki thought he meant.

Their brotherhood had been imposed upon them by Odin; had been manipulated and regulated by him and his lies. This was different. Thor was telling him he was _choosing_ to keep Loki, and offering Loki the chance to keep his bond with Thor in return, on their own terms for once.

Slowly, hesitantly, Loki reached for his dagger. He held his breath as he shakily made a similar cut — a _brother_ cut — on his own left hand, and held it up for Thor to take.

He took it, of course, beaming with the intensity of a thousand Suns, and his other arm went around Loki, holding him close. "Brother," he murmured into Loki's shoulder, their hands pressed between their bellies, their blood mingling for the first time in millennia.

"Brother," replied Loki in a very small voice, dropping the dagger and finally returning the embrace.

* * *

Tony took to the sky easily, shooting out of an emergency access straight from his work room and into the bright light of the late afternoon. Ugh. Sunlight? What was sunlight? It _was_ nice to be up in the sky once again though.

The Mark 39 was punching its way towards East Hampton, the closest Framrherrlae device being built within proximity of Manhattan, considering the space available. It was all beaches and open land here Tony soaring over stretches of the coast and wide golfing ranges, perfect for the Frannie not to impede progress and great for drawing a possible invasion away from attacking much larger areas of town.

Sorry East Hamptonians.

When he arrived, it was easy to see the Frannie from this high in the sky, an ugly piece of work standing out against the natural serenity of the surrounding wilderness. The construction was being done on a repurposed water tower, considering Tony had given them _options_ on how to build based on the schematics, considering not everyone constructing towers across the world belonged to Stark Industries.

The flexibility in design had been meant to utilize time, considering no one truly had enough time or resources to build an entire tower designed specifically to the instructions. He had made sure to highlight what was absolutely necessary to have built for accuracy, functionality, and of course, safety issues. If they skipped out on those, it wouldn't be a damn Frannie at all.

But he had given them _options_.

Tony winced. He could always go back and make them look much nicer later. But, gods, they were an eyesore.

The water tower was a grotesque beast of wiring and parts, everything built between the embrace of the tower's legs but hardly hidden, with the dome serving as a base for the actual barrel. Everything still seemed incomplete, and to Tony who was terribly proud of his designs, made him want to fall from the sky weeping.

Of course, he didn't do that. There wasn't enough time for it.

But he did however fall to the ground, landing hard against whom he would assume was the head of construction by the way he was sitting around barking orders. Chubby fellow. The man straightened like a board when he saw the Iron Man suit however.

"W–wow, it's really you, sir?" He looked like a girl at a dance who'd just been elected prom queen, Tony mused, snorting behind his mask. "I'm guessing you want to oversee our progress? She's almost fully operational, give an hour more. She's not..." the rotund man itched nervously under the sweep of his hard hat, considering his words, "...the prettiest thing you'll ever see, but she'll work."

Tony nodded, not in enough spirits to joke around with the guy. "Alright, good. As soon as you have her targetting systems up, I want you to fire..." Tony looked up, and while the construction worker could only guess as to why Tony was peering up longingly at the sky, Jarvis was calculating a safe trajectory for a test fire. He didn't want to accidentally destroy a star or hit one of his satellites up there.

Locking onto a suitably clear path in space, Tony turned back to the man in charge. He pointed at the man's cell phone, Jarvis already having snuck into the system and leaving his cell number there. "You let me know when she's up and ready to go. I'll forward the coordinates for a test fire as soon as you're ready. Get everyone back 200 feet at least, got it?"

The man nodded, dry-mouthed. "Yes, Sir." Wow. He'd just been given orders directly from Tony Stark.

Stepping back, Tony acknowledged the worker and abruptly shot back into the air, the Mark 39 one of his fastest suits yet. It sounded like a rocket lifting off, shooting straight up as the people gathered below all watched the suit disappear beyond the veil of low clouds, parting them in its wake.

"Jarvis. Are we prepped for the exosphere? I wanna see what these babies can do." The Frannies and the Mark. Remember, two birds with one stone?

"We are prepped, sir. Routing twenty percent power into life sustainment systems in eight point four seconds." The HUD lit against Tony's face displayed just how far up they were punching into the atmosphere, barely feeling a drop in pressure as the suit created homeostatic conditions within the suit.

_Fuck._

He was going straight back into the frying pan, the void of stars he remembered just from this morning, watching as the cerulean sky gave way to deep blue and then nothing but blackness and stars. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing, feel the boosters thrumming against his back as he carried himself up and into the sky. He felt his blood run cold. But he had to do this. Nothing like testing in the field.

"Bruce," Tony said, patching a call directly through to his work room where he knew Bruce would still be bunking. He'd made sure to enable longer range communication especially for the Mark 39, utilizing the communications satellites to boost the signal. "Tell Loki I'm taking a trip to Mars. I'll be back in time for dinner," he laughed, the sound uneasy even to his ears.

Back at the labs, Bruce received the call and grabbed his cell phone, shaking his head. He sent off a quick message to the dictator.

'_So. Your boyfriend's off in space. Says he'll be back for dinner.'_ Goodness, things were never normal, living with a god and a billionaire.

* * *

Loki was sitting in a corner of Jane Foster's living room, playing Pokemon White on his smartphone while Thor and the Three Stooges Plus Sif discussed battle and Foster played host. He was ridiculously bored and waiting until the good doctor got fed up with fetching food and serving drinks and decided the wormhole waiting for her in the lab was more interesting

It wasn't that Loki wasn't interested in battle strategy, per se. it was just that whatever suggestion he made was put down, mocked, or downright ignored. He wanted to avoid battle or make it as short as possible, but the Aesir were having none of that. Nevermind that the battlefield technically belonged to _him_, by their laws, and that it was _his_ enemy they were battling; Trickster, Argr Loki wasn't welcome in _real_ wars with _real_ warriors. It probably didn't help matters that he was wearing a business suit and his hair tied back in a ponytail. As far as they knew, he had gone completely native.

'_Yes. I can already feel the difference about being Thor's blood brother,_' he thought sarcastically.

Loki stared at his hand — where the cut had healed into a clean, straight scab — with the bitter taste of regret in his mouth. What, exactly, had he gained by becoming Thor's blood-brother? Just the momentary illusion that everything could go back to how it had been between him and Thor.

And now that the heat of emotion had passed, now that Thor had newly discarded him in favour of his quests and his glory and his friends... Loki regretted doing it. He should have made Thor _grovel_ for the privilege of even talking to him. Curse Loki's weakness; accepting Thor's offer had been the single most stupid thing he had done in a long time.

Loki sighed, watching dispassionately as the pokemon he had been battling finally sucumbed to his ultraball. He decided to pay attention to the talk, to check if they had made some progress on how to distribute the Aesir warriors. They had not, despite Loki's very sensible suggestion that they spread them proportionately to human population density.

Some of the words in Loki's suggestion may have gone over their heads.

Glancing down at the phone again, Loki discovered he had a new text. Curious, he opened it and read it.

'_Your boyfriend's off in space. Says he'll be back for dinner.'_

Loki didn't notice the whine of stressed plastic until the touch-screen cracked and splintered under the pressure of his hand, and by then it was too late. His phone may not be dead, but the screen was broken irreparable even for his magic, and the splinters had cut into his skin.

"Brother, are you well?" Thor asked, sounding distinctly wary.

It was only then that Loki realized everyone in the room had paused whatever they had been doing to stare at him. '_Well done,_' he thought wryly. He turned a thin smile upon Thor, pleasant and calm enough that anyone who knew Loki would know it was completely fake, and answered, "Something has come up. Please excuse me, Thor."

Ignoring Thor's subsequent petition to call him 'Brother', Loki got up, deciding to seek out the only person with a brain aside from himself.

Foster beat him to the punch. She came in at that exact moment, carrying a tray of the ugliest dainty teacups Loki had ever seen.

Loki forgot his urgent need to text Jarvis in the face of kittens in a pastel blue and pink background. He spared one look at the assembled Asgardians, noticing Volstagg's bulk and Thor's clumsiness, and went to her quickly. "I hope you realise you will never see this tea set whole again?" he murmured to her.

Foster grinned. "That is the idea. I hate this set."

Loki blinked. '_Oh_.' Good. It was in terrible taste. It must have been a gift she couldn't refuse. Asgard might be gaudy, with its golden spires, golden stairs, golden _everything_, but at least the taste of the architect was impeccable. It was no wonder the woman wanted to get rid of the set; this was the perfect chance to do it.

He helped her distribute the tea among the Aesir, who, of course, regarded him with scorn (except Thor, who knew Earthian customs enough to realise that serving food was not exclusively a woman's job). Loki didn't care. Once everyone had a saucer, dainty little teaspoon, teacup, and tea in it, he turned towards Foster again.

"May I borrow your mobile?"

She grinned, probably having anticipated he was about to ask her for something by the fact that he had helped her without being asked. "Sure thing." She got it out of her back pocket and handed it over.

Loki texted Jarvis. '_Relay this message to Stark: If you get yourself killed, I will petition my daughter for your soul, that I might visit upon it eternal torment.' _Then, huffing, he returned the phone to its owner. "My gratitude."

The prospect of staying in the room, doing nothing but fretting about Tony's fate and being ignored by the burly Asgardians was dreadful. Loki should occupy his mind with something else, do something useful with his time. But the only thing that could distract him long enough was magic.

Then he remembered all the missiles he had been promised, and smiled predatorily.

"Doctor Foster," Loki said pleasantly, "what do you say we ditch these monkeys and work on a portal to the orbit of Mars?"

Foster frowned. "I would be delighted," she admitted cautiously, in a voice low enough not to be overheard by Aesir ears. "But, I have to ask, why Mars?"

Loki grinned mysteriously and offered her his arm gentlemanly. "Let us say I may or may not have acquired a number of weapons of mass destruction, and they would look simply lovely in the vicinity of Thanos's army."

Foster's eyes glowed with a thirst for blood Loki had not been expecting in someone so sweet-natured, and she took his arm. "Lead the way, O Conqueror of Earth."

They left the warriors to discussing how to fight their wars, and begun working on a plan to win their own.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 8th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Instead of talking to her — he had long learned that talking, despite Foster's advice, was futile when dealing with the irreverent wench — Loki simply snatched the packet of gummy bears from her hand._

_"Hey, those are mine!" Darcy protested, hand reaching out for it._

_Loki held the bag up, out of her range. "I believe you acquired them for me," he said bitingly. There were only two left._

* * *

**End notes:**

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	27. New Frontiers

**Chapter Title: **New Frontiers

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **Loki's silver tongue is actually a dagger.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony's jaunt to space is not what he expected; neither is Loki's new attitude to the Aesir who knew him.

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

_'You know, Loki's gonna kill you_,' Bruce said, his voice crackling with static over the com link.

It was eerie. No sooner had he heard Bruce's message that Jarvis relayed a similar one, sent straight from the very epitome-of-a-wrathful-god himself.

It made Tony grin behind his helmet as he shot through space, all sound muffled beyond the small inside of his suit. "Aw, he really does care," he snorted, veering off to avoid some debris in space.

Jarvis had already charted an efficient flight plan to Mars, the small solar panelling material built into his suit adding to the storage of energy maintained by the Mark 39.

"C'mon Bruce. Sometimes you just gotta live a little. Nothing like taking a stroll through the final frontier, am I right?" Tony said as he flew past the moon, literally, turning his head to watch as the Great Silver Dollar in the Sky passed him by. Maybe one day he could take Loki and the guys out for a picnic up here or something. It'd be _stellar_ (yes, pun intended).

An hour and a half later on full throttle brought him about 20,000 miles from Phobos, Mars's first moon, Jarvis constantly updating him on the condition of his suit. So far, so good, even if the engines were a little too hot for his liking. He had nodded off a few times during the flight — since, after a while, there was nothing new to look at besides stars, stars, and hey, more stars — fully trusting in the Mark 39's autopiloting feature (even if he was starting to get a bit of a cramp).

He slowly blinked awake as his beloved AI marked the proximity of Phobos to his current location, as well as small field of asteroids and meteoroids ambling lazily off to his left.

Something caught his attention. Some movement.

Tony cut the thrusters and remained still as he rode out the inertia, turning towards a small cluster of meteors, varying in size from footballs to those the size of a football _field_.

Jarvis made sure to counteract their gravity, lest he be pulled towards some of the larger pieces of debris.

"Any idea that that was?" Tony asked.

"It seems to be a life-form of similar make to those of the organic Chitauri battleships, Sir." The AI brought up a small hologram of the whale creature from Manhattan, as if Tony needed to be reminded.

He didn't. "Where the hell is it?" he murmured, working his way closer to latch onto a human-sized chunk of basalt and nickel, looking through his visor and seeing nothing-

Oh. There it was.

The armored whale creature soared just beyond, breaking through between two larger asteroids into the line of sight. It didn't seem to be quite headed for Earth, but rather watching it in a predatory manner. It looked like a spine, like some horrible minor Cthulhu-meets-Science-Fiction type dealio.

Tony remembered flying into one of the damn thing's mouth. The creepiest thing of all, Tony mused, was that, if he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have known it was coming at all. He couldn't hear a damned thing out there, even as it crushed a smaller chunk of rock between its teeth.

That's when the fear kicked in.

Jarvis reminded him to breathe, realizing his vitals were speeding up or going out of whack.

_Breathe?_ He was in _space._ He was _alone out here._

_Why the fuck was he doing this?!_

No, no. It was okay. Stay calm. As long as it didn't see him, he was good. All good in the astronomical neighbourhood.

That was when he saw a light shoot past, an immense beam that sent a force barrelling into him and into the field of asteroids. He was sent careening head over heels while Jarvis worked to cool the outer shell and keep it from singeing right off, as well as stabilize him. "What the fuck was—"

"The Framrherrlae, Sir," Jarvis replied. "I believe it is quite a success. Congratulations."

Stark rolled his eyes. And then froze, realizing he was now very, very far from the scattered field of debris, and therefore out in the open.

That was when the ugly whale monster recovered from its own predicament (clearly the blast had missed it) and focused on him. It opened its serrated jaws.

Tony supposed it was roaring. "Ah. Lovely."

"I think now would be a very good time to run, Sir."

Tony nodded. "Yep."

* * *

When Loki and Jane Foster got to the experiment room of the warehouse, Darcy was there, singing along to her mp3 player and popping gum.

Loki's upper lip curled in distaste, but he opted to ignore her, instead spelling her so she couldn't make any noise at all. When he turned, rolling up his sleeves and readying himself to work, he saw Foster glaring at him.

"Whatever you did to her, undo it," the astrophysicist ordered, crossing her arms over her chest pointedly.

Loki blinked. "Are you telling me you do not find the popping gum annoying?" he asked, hesitant. He really wanted to be firm on this and just tell her '_No,_' but... This was Foster's domain, even though he had gifted it to her, and her word was law. More importantly, her word decided whether Loki could stay and help, or whether he could not.

Foster raised an eyebrow at him. "Really. You find that noise so annoying you have to use _magic_ to muffle it? Weak."

Eyes narrowing, Loki leaned menacingly closer to the astrophysicist and murmured darkly, "I am only refraining from ripping out her lungs through her throat to silence her because, for some unfathomable reason, you find it amusing to keep her as a pet."

Her eyes widened as she swallowed, gaping speechlessly.

"As it happens, I respect you, despite your poor life choices," Loki continued, satisfied, pulling back and running a hand through his hair casually.

Foster's mouth worked open and closed silently a few minutes, her face pinkening in outrage. She took a step closer, poking Loki in the chest with a finger. "That girl is worth a thousand of you. Turn her back."

"Is she, now?" Loki asked, examining his fingernails, pretending he was terribly bored with the subject already even though one of his eyebrows was twitching in annoyance. "Strange, then, how she does not show it. Perhaps our relative _worth_ is in the eye of the beholder?"

Foster glared at him. "Turn. Her. Back."

Loki glared back, impassive. Seeing she would not cooperate until she had her way, he decided to comply. Not looking away from her eyes, he twirled a finger in the air, making it clear with his expression that he thought of her as nothing but a little girl throwing a tantrum, refusing to acquiesce to her better's demands until she had had her way.

The sound of gum being popped echoed in the room.

Instead of smirking in triumph, however, as Loki had expected, Jane Foster lowered her arms from her chest to rest her hands on her hips and said loudly, without looking away from him, "Darcy, could you please throw away the gum?"

Loki blinked at that, surprised, and his tense muscles relaxed a little. A compromise, when she had already won the battle?

"Aw, but I just started this piece!" Darcy complained.

Foster closed her eyes and sighed through her nose in the way of someone very exasperated but trying not to show it. "Then, would you please chew it somewhere else? The noise is distracting."

So Foster wasn't even blaming Loki? More and more surprises.

"Oh, okay, sure, whatever," Darcy said, catching on, picking up her jacket. "I'll go to the store. Want something?"

"Do you want something?" Foster asked Loki, the corner of her mouth rising in amusement, one eyebrow quirked sarcastically.

Loki pondered. "Gummy bears," he answered, perfectly serious, but the mischief in his eyes belied his amusement.

Foster was outright smiling now. "Gummy bears and a Sprite, please!" she called to Darcy.

"Okie-dokes," the black-haired wench replied, shouldering her backpack. "And stop flirting with our alien overlord; Thor might get jealous," she quipped, before disappearing through the doorway.

Foster rolled her eyes, but, after checking around to be sure Darcy wasn't there to overhear, she elbowed Loki playfully in the stomach. "See? Asking politely works wonders."

"So does ripping out body parts," Loki answered, unimpressed, and then chuckled at her reproachful expression. "Shall we, then?" he invited, motioning to the portal's location.

Jane grinned. "Sure. I've always wanted to see Mars up close." In reality, she was about to faint — if this worked, it would revolutionize space travel. NASA could send probes and fragile robots without bothering with rockets or complicated landing schemes. Heck, they could cross over themselves, take samples, and be home in time for dinner. They could even build a lab on site.

Humanity could begin terraforming and colonizing Mars within a few short years.

And why stop at Mars ?

"Let's do this."

* * *

Before they did it, however, Foster had to explain some basic laws of physics to Loki, who listened curiously. He had always had an intuitive grasp of how the Universe worked, and he had come to understand qualitatively most of the discoveries of her race.

The mathematical analysis of it, however, was frankly fascinating, and he decided then and there that he would like to make a study of it when he had time, if they repelled the invasion and Fury kept his word.

It took them awhile to figure out how to prevent Earth's atmosphere from being sucked out through the Einstein-Rosen bridge. Foster had brainstormed almost everything, it seemed to Loki, from a force field to a physical membrane of water.

When Loki suggested that they could simply open the portal and air would stay on one side, vacuum on the other, Foster, very frustrated and close to tears, yelled, "But entropy doesn't work that way! You'd need Maxwell's Demon to keep all the air molecules inside!"

She was, of course, forced to explain the concept of both entropy and this so-called 'demon' to Loki.

Who shrugged. "If I understand correctly, this 'entropy' of yours is merely how you measure Chaos," the God of Chaos said very pointedly.

Foster looked at him as if seeing him from the first time. "But we _don't_ want chaos. We want order, low entropy; we want all the air particles to spontaneously remain on one side of the portal." And yet, she didn't sound dismissive. She sounded hopeful, as if it was a question to Loki, not a statement.

"Magic _is_ Order, as much as it is Chaos," Loki explained. "The first spell I learned was how to make a fire from nothing but air, and it is as easy as convincing all the fast-moving molecules to clump together where I wish them to." He was trying out the new words he had just learned, hopefully using them right. "One simply exerts one's will over the matter around, see?" He raised a hand, palm up, and demonstrated.

Within a minute, he had a ball of red-hot gas hovering over his hand, and the room was slightly cooler.

"Mind over matter, huh?" Foster murmured, entranced by Loki's casual flaunting of the laws of matter and energy she had followed and believed in all her life.

"As soon as my will falters, everything returns to its, erm, _spontaneous_ state." Loki stopped exerting his will, and the ball of gas dispersed and diffused. "It requires a conscious effort."

They talked a bit more, deciding Loki would cut out the 'doorway' and stay to hold all the air on one side of the portal as she took her measurements. Loki would be required to stay and play the part of Maxwell's Demon — he was quite fond of the idea of being a 'demon', though not very keen on belonging to some long-dead fellow named Maxwell — every time he wished to open the portal; Foster (or Stark, Loki thought privately) could design a machine to be the demon later, when time wasn't of the essence.

Deciding everything was ready that could be ready, Loki repeated the same procedure as when building the E-R bridge to Asgard, picking a spot on the other side of Mars from Earth for the exit so it would be closer to the enemy army.

Foster's pet had come back from the store some time ago, and Loki decided to brave her presence and retrieve his gummy bears while Foster did whatever scientists did when they had wormholes in front of them.

Loki found her _eating_ them, and had to use some of his trickier meditation techniques to avoid making her nothing more than a greasy smear on the concrete floor. Instead of talking to her — he had long learned that talking, despite Foster's advice, was futile when dealing with irreverent wenches — Loki simply snatched the packet of gummy bears from her hand.

"Hey, those are mine!" Darcy protested, hand reaching out for it.

Loki held the bag up, out of her range. "I believe you acquired them for _me_," he said bitingly.

There were only two left.

"Yes — no, _those_ are mine," Darcy explained, rolling her eyes. "You're like a little kid, you know? I thought it was a terrific idea, I hadn't eaten gummy bears in ages. So I bought extra for me. You have your own."

Loki blinked at her slowly, and then held his empty hand palm up in front of him in a silent request.

Grumbling, Darcy walked the whole four steps separating her from the drugstore bag and got out the second pack of gummy bears, slapping it into Loki's hand carelessly. "There you go. Can I have mine back now, O_ King of the World_?"

Loki handed over the almost-finished pack. "Glad to see you are finally learning proper manners," he said, before leaving her presence in favor of returning to the portal site.

* * *

Tony's suit was emanating plumes of smoke.

As it turned out, diving through Mars's atmosphere in the hopes that the gravity would pull the beast faster than it intended had been a _very bad idea_.

"Fuck this shit!" he shouted, and punched back into outer space.

The whale was still tailing him as he tried to lose it in the asteroid field. He'd suffered a fair amount of dings and scratches travelling through the debris, and not even the clusters of rock had been able to considerably slow the raging alien cetacean.

Then suddenly, he saw it.

A _portal_, of all things.

A portal that Jarvis confirmed had lead straight back to Earth. Where exactly it lead, Tony didn't catch, since he was too busy trying not to die, the only things registering was that one, it was a way of escape, and two, Loki had to have _something_ to do with it.

So he did the only sensible thing and flew right through.

* * *

Loki found Foster —metaphorically — knee deep in calculations of some sort, the portal open to her right showing the red soil of Mars, some asteroids floating about between the planet and the opening. He had only opened the bag and taken one of the cute, gelatinous candies out when the portal flared and _something_ came throu—

—was that _Tony?_

Iron Man came tumbling out. He didn't know what he should've expected as he burst into the manufactured wormhole, but he crashed hard into a large piece of scientific equipment, whatever it was, sparks flying over him as he slumped to the ground.

"Tony?" Loki exclaimed, almost dropping his candy, recovering from the battle stance his body had taken upon seeing Iron Man crash into equipment on the far side of the portal.

Tony didn't stay down long. He had guessed right, Loki was there (were those _gummies_?!). He waved a hand frantically at him. "Close it! Holy shit, _just close it_!" he yelled, watching the onlookers — oh, hello there, Foster — flap their lips, gawking. He was already turning on his heels, training all of his weaponry at the Einstein-Rosen bridge (apparently Foster's doing) even though he knew it would be futile if the damn thing came through.

It's sheer size alone would probably crush everyone but Loki into a fine, meaty paste.

_"Hurry!"_

Loki obeyed immediately, trusting Tony's orders, and turned towards the portal to close it. His heart skipped a beat or ten when he saw the Leviathan coming towards him, but the panic made him gather his wits and slam the portal closed with a clap of his hands.

"Whu—what the _Hell_ was that?" Darcy's voice shrieked.

Loki ignored her, instead running towards Tony and dropping to his knees near him. The suit was smoking in places, probably because the _idiot_ had just come through an unstable and untested portal, but there seemed to be no other damage. He felt the overwhelming _need _to see if Tony was alright, so he reached out and ripped open the faceplate, revealing Tony's wide-eyed, pale face.

"H-hey! That's expensive!" Tony huffed, now that the crisis had been averted and his heart had stopped beating so fast. The billionaire frowned at the loss of his poor face plate, "People really have to stop doing that."

"How _stupid_ can you be, Stark?" Loki yelled, hitting Iron Man's helmet with his fist and leaving a slight dent. He hoped the _clang_ that resounded from it was enough to show Tony how upset he was. "Not only do you go to _space_ in an untested suit, like a complete blundering hot-headed _half-wit, _but then you engage the enemy, and, to add insult to injury, you _fly into an unknown hole in the universe_?"

Tony winced at the tirade of worries , feeling somewhat like a child being scolded (for playing around in a high-powered tech suit up in space) and yet knowing full well that Loki was simply worried. "And for your information, I didn't _engage_ the enemy. He—_it _engaged me, ok?"

Loki panted harshly a few times, absolutely beside himself with thoughts of what could have happened, everything that could have gone wrong. Then, ignoring the "_Man, that was harsh!"_ from Darcy, and the subsequent "_Shh!"_ from Foster, he threw himself at his painfully stupid mortal and, burying his face in the crook of the suit's neck, hugged him tightly, uncaring that the armor dug into his flesh through the thin clothing.

Tony folded into the gesture and returned it slowly, realizing just how open Loki was now to showing his affections in public. Not that revealing their matching hickies to the world didn't do that already.

As he disentangled himself from Tony and offered him a hand up, Loki realized he still had the bag of candy clutched in his hand. "By the way," he said casually, "would you care for a gummy bear?" He offered the packet to his armored lover, grinning sheepishly.

Tony blinked in surprise at the unexpected offer of candy, suddenly finding that super hilarious after just narrowly escaping death. He cackled and carefully rummaged with an armored gauntlet, nabbing a chewy bear and plopping it in his mouth. A horrific thought crossed his mind on just how similar it would have been with him inside of the whale monster's mouth.

Yeah, better not think about that. Just another day in the life of Tony Stark.

"So, uh," he looked around, smoke still slightly rising from his cooling armor. "What have you guys been up to?"

"Nothing important," Loki answered, putting a gummy bear of his own into his mouth. "Just making wormholes." Fast as a snake, he flicked Tony on the forehead. "And you should never go into an unknown wormhole, Darling. You never know where it may lead."

Loki had learned that lesson only too well.

"Jarvis confirmed a 31.2 percent chance that I'd land back onto Earth," Tony smiled with some guilt, shrugging as if it had been no big deal. "I had been doing a bit of analysis on the one you opened up way back when so I was slightly prepared to—"

The sound of a camera taking a picture drew his attention.

"Aw, you guys are so cute," Darcy said, her cheeks slightly pink. "I ship it!" she declared.

Tony flung a look at Darcy, a girl he only remembered briefly meeting the first time he had spoken to Jane Foster following the events of New Mexico. His eyebrows knitted upwards at the sound of the camera and the mention of a 'ship', before he recalled just what the hell that was. That was all before he decided to make a few 'sexy' faces next to Loki for the subsequent pictures. "C'mon, smile Lokes."

Darcy _squealed_ and began taking pictures like crazy.

Foster looked mortified. "Darcy, control yourself, please."

"You may keep your pictures as long as they do not end up on Tumblr, Wench," Loki said dismissively.

There was a horrified cry of "How on Earth do you know that Tumblr is?" coming from Darcy's direction.

Loki ignored it, turning to Tony. "Thor is here, if you care to know," he commented. "He crossed over some hours ago."

Right, that made sense to Tony. If they had made a sustained wormhole to Mars, then surely they could have made one to Asgard. "Thor? How's the big guy, anyway?"

Loki gave him a wry smile. "He is currently debating with his fellow warriors how to best_ defend this planet_," he answered sardonically.

Tony had to chuckle at Loki's displeasure concerning the god's brother and the rest of his jolly space Viking gang. "Really? So they left you out, babe? Aw, want me to rough them up a bit? I'm sure I could get them to hear you out," the engineer laughed, only joking.

Mostly. The Godkiller armor could definitely take on Thor if he really wanted to.

"But honestly, shouldn't we be there to help, I dunno, distribute them? Or are they a little less... open to suggestion than we originally thought?"

Loki's smile was half-resigned and half-bitter. "Only if the suggestion comes from a proper warrior," he said as if he didn't care. He refrained from telling Tony that Thor and he were blood-brothers now, not wishing to expose how truly tragic Thor's dismissal was in front of Darcy and Foster.

Looks like Loki still had a bit of a beef with the Asgardians. Tony vaguely thought of a kid bullied for far too long in school, only to have a reunion with the rest of the kids years down the road. And he realized just how protective he was starting to truly feel over his lover. Sure, Thor was an alright dude (and man, did he look like he knew how to hold his alcohol), but still.

Loki wallowed in self pity for maybe three seconds, the silence stretching awkwardly, before he composed himself. "Well, the portal is built," he said out loud, his voice very near approaching jovial, "and the Aesir are here. Let me return you home, and then I can start gathering missiles to send through." He slid a hand around Tony, resting it along the curve of his back — his armor was too flattering, really — and guided Tony out of the main room stiffly, a very calculated absent smile on his face. "Farewell, Jane Foster and pet."

"Pet? Who's the pet?" Darcy asked, looking around, confused.

"Bye, Loki," Jane answered, not sure how she felt about Loki anymore, and grabbed Darcy's elbow to prevent her from launching herself at Loki with a war cry when she worked it out. "Bye, Mr. Stark."

Tony followed Loki out, winking and casually saluting the two women with a, "Ciao, ladies." The faceplate was forgotten. There were more suits where this one came from. He paused as they made their way away from the laboratory, "Wait. Home? Aren't we gonna talk to Thor? Babe, it's your world — sorta. Our plans. _Your_ hard work." He was speaking with utmost conviction, for once the selfish hero being selfless, or so he felt. He didn't enjoy that Loki was being left out of his own meetings. "It'll be more detrimental if they somehow fuck up our plans simply for not getting with the program. They need to know what we're doing and we need to know what's up with their little frat group too."

Loki started walking slower, shyly spying Tony's face out the corner of his eye. He was still getting used to the whole unconditional support thing, but this was downright warming.

Tony placed a reassuring hand on Loki's shoulder. "C'mon. I'm pretty sure we can get them to listen. We just gotta yell at them right back. They seem to respond to that sort of thing." Crude, but hey, it had worked with Thor back before everything .

Unable to resist, Loki leaned over and kissed Tony on the lips, very chastely and very briefly. "Thank you," he murmured, smiling, the tip of his nose brushing Tony's affectionately before he pulled back. "Yes, you are correct. We shall have words with them." He was holding Tony's gauntlet as though it were as pliable and warm as his flesh hand.

And then he heard the scoff from behind him.

"Still as argr as always, then, Seidrmadr?"

"Sayderwhat-er?" Tony parroted poorly, quirking a brow at the Thor look-alike. He'd only met two Asgardians in his life until now (and technically, Loki didn't count), and now Tony had to wonder if they were all big, blonde idiots who liked to pick on Loki (sorry, Thor).

Loki turned, his eyes hardening. "More, actually, and more seidrmadr now as well, if you care to know, Siegfried," he answered in that pleasant tone of voice that augured a terrible fate to whomever he was speaking to. "Do you?"

The Thor-like blond looked both surprised and slightly wary. "Do I what?"

Loki grinned as nastily as he could, inclining his head forward slightly so the lights overhead would cast shadows on his face. "Do you _care to know_? I could perhaps demonstrate, if it will aid your decision," he offered, raising one hand in front of him, poised to snap his fingers. He waited for an answer.

Siegfried paled dramatically, his eyes looking around wildly for an escape. "I shall take your word for it, methinks."

Loki untangled himself from Tony and approached the petrified warrior. "Oh? You shall take the word of a renowned liar?" he asked, sounding extremely dubious. "What is it like, in your empty little skull? Must be so relaxing."

Tony quietly snickered at Loki's side, digging the Sherlock reference. Shipping? Tumblr? _Sherlock_? Oh Loki, what did you do on your off time, huh, buddy?

Loki ignored Tony's mirth. "My esteem for your intelligence drops every time to open your mouth to speak, Siegfried."

There was no right answer to that except no answer at all, and that was what the Às chose.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki asked, his voice painfully disdainful. "Well? I tire of you. Was there something you wanted from me? Perhaps some magical assistance in finding your clearly scattered wits?" Loki knew he was being cruel, but it felt _good_ to put him down so absolutely.

Of course, Tony's lover showed the guy who was boss, Tony standing on the sidelines for this one and grinning with amusement. Loki was awfully cruel, and Tony knew he should feel bad about it, but the fact remained that the guy sort of maybe deserved it. For all Tony knew, he'd just been calling Loki names, or something.

Siegfried shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Thor wanted you in the war room," he said, and added under his breath, "although I have no idea what for."

"My gratitude, although please do allow me to give you some constructive criticism," Loki replied, digging dirt out from under his fingernails, the perfect picture of boredom. "When playing the part of a messenger, you ought to give the message first, not waste time engaging in a battle of wits when you are unarmed." He licked his lips, delighted at the puce color of Siegfried's complexion.

Since Loki was technically a prince, and, more practically, the blood-brother of his commander, Siegfried nodded and bowed slightly. "As you say, Loki."

The conqueror of Earth was slightly disappointed that his prey had given up so soon, but he didn't show it. Instead, he started walking to the conference room, carrying himself with all the grace and poise of a well-groomed regent.

Tony opened his mouth to say something and, finding no words, simply pat the guy on the shoulder before moving to catch up with Loki. "I'm speechless. How do they _not_ notice you again? I'm pretty sure you just made that guy crap himself," he cackled, keeping pace with the elegant dictator. "Looks like Thor missed you though."

Talking sense into a bunch of meatheads who'd rather smash things with their skulls and scream rather than actually think about strategy was going to be difficult, but if that Siegfried was any indication, Loki might not be so overlooked as he originally thought. And if Loki _still_ remained unheard, he was sure he could find a way to get through to their new guests.

Loki faltered only slightly in his stride, continued walking without calling attention to himself. "He did," Loki confirmed, deciding to show Tony his hand, the one with the wound, palm up.

Behind them, Siegfried gasped and swore.

Loki allowed himself one small smirk. Since the secret was already out, he had no qualms about speaking of it to Tony. "This means we are blood-brothers, now." He leaned sideways to whisper in his ear, or as near as he could get with the helmet still in place. "I shall explain later, if you are unfamiliar with the concept," he added, placing his hand on Tony's back yet again to guide him around the corner.

"Uhh, I've heard of the concept vaguely, yeah," Tony murmured, following Loki's lead. "Does it mean more in Asgardian terms?" Seemed so. Asgard seemed to be all about honor and strength and bond, blah blah blah. It just seemed like something they would uphold strongly.

They had finally arrived at Thor's small war council, and Loki, wishing to make something of a dramatic entrance, slammed the doors open with magic before striding through them, his hand on Tony's back guiding him in.

The smaller man walked into the makeshift war room, the space seeming so much smaller when it was filled with men as large as Thor's bunch. He smiled at how much fun Loki was having, making an entrance for them both. He liked Loki's style.

Every face in the small group turned towards them, some looking uneasy at the golden wisps of magic curling around the doors and fading.

Loki had never made a casual and gratuitous display of magic in front of them like he had just now.

Smirking slightly, but otherwise impassive, he asked, "You summoned me, Prince Thor?"

"Yes, Brother, and—oh!" Thor spotted Tony. "Man of Iron!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat at the table and approaching him, clasping Tony's arm and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey Thor, what's up?" Tony stiffened at the strong hug, unable to resist it even if he'd wanted to. If Thor squeezed any harder, he was sure the armor might've suffered a few more dents.

"My heart gladdens to see you! Are you come to lend my brother aid in this battle?"

"Boy, are we glad to see you too." One look at Loki had Tony thinking he was speaking only for himself. "Yeah, I am. The rest of the Avengers and SHIELD are also here to back Loki, we all are." Tony moved, resting his armored palm on the Thunderer's shoulder. "Which brings me to my first point, since we don't really have time for foreplay, Thor."

Thor seemed confused.

Tony snorted. It figured that Asgardians didn't know what foreplay was, if what Loki had told him about their repressed sexuality was true. "What I mean is, well, we're the ones with the plan. Have you guys come up with anything? Because if you haven't, I'm pretty sure Loki and I can find a way to better utilize your guys', er, talents."

Loki nodded, not yet saying anything. Tony had chosen to fight this battle, and he would respect it.

Tony's deep brown eyes grew harder at the thought of the invasion, of the Earth going to hell in a handbasket, of Thanos coming to take Loki away from him. He couldn't let that happen, all joking aside. The gaze swept from Thor to the rest of Pointbreak's army before back to the blonde himself. "We've gotta work together, Thor. And the only way we're gonna do that is if you all listen to Loki. Not kidding. Our world, our rules, right?"

Thor's warriors broke into murmurs along the lines of "The mortals actually want the Trickster to wage battle for them?"

The Odinson, however, was practically beaming, happy that someone that wasn't him trusted Loki this much. He shared a look with Loki and held up a hand, and everyone quieted instantly. "Come, Brother, Man of Iron, sit with us," he invited, gesturing to the table.

All the seats were occupied, but two of his warriors stood up without needing to be told to leave them their places.

Loki succeeded in hiding how relieved and touched he was by the whole thing, merely looking regal and cold as he took his seat. "My gratitude, Brother," he answered, and Thor's smile at the form of address was _ridiculous._ "As Friend Stark said," he begun, naming Tony formally for everyone present, "I indeed have a plan."

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 15th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_'Sir. I do hate to interrupt, but Loki has just arrived on the premises,' Jarvis called from all around, Tony simultaneously groaning into a pillow and humming happily at the news. Well, maybe he wouldn't be falling asleep alone tonight._

_"Thanks Jarv, duly noted," Tony murmured, burrowing himself under the sheets and pillows, seeking both comfort and obscurity with the sheets pressed against his naked body. Maybe if Loki wandered close enough, he could jump out and—wait. No surprises. He remembered the dagger. Oh, the dagger._

_"Tell him his sexy, awesome, genius billionaire playboy is waiting upstairs. This bed isn't going to warm itself."_

* * *

**End notes:**

Wheeee, going to Mars in an hour and a half... Also, Loki is a cruel bitch armed with pop culture, and he's not afraid to use it!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	28. Comfort Zone

**Chapter Title: **Comfort Zone

**Chapter Rating**: T.

**Chapter Length: **4.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **None.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki explains the plan. Thor wonders if he should be giving anyone shovel talks. Tony gets home exhausted.

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki followed up the impressive introduction with a thirty minute presentation where he called up his illusory magic to show a hologram of Earth, the Moon and Mars. He explained the Aegis, the weaponized satellites and the Framrherrlae, simulating a cloud of comparably tiny Chitauri ships and Leviathans that looked a lot like mist around Earth. He explained the problem with the Aegis, and showed everyone how the Chitauri could get in. With Tony's help and the information he had unwittingly scouted around Mars while fleeing from the space whale, he gave the Aesir some idea of what the army was like.

A lot of the men looked at Tony with new eyes. _Fearful_ eyes, as they watched his suit of armor that was also stuffed with weapons and could serve as a mode of interplanetary transportation. Respectful, as well, of his blind courage and his ability to wield Science, the _seidr_ of mortals; Loki had counted on that when he spoke of Tony to them.

Then Loki explained where he thought that the Chitauri who got through would attack, and how the human armies were mobilizing as they escorted civilians to the safer places. The Aesir had a bit of trouble understanding why mortals would rather leave their homes than fight for them, and Thor took the reins to explain that mortals were so abundant that not all of them needed to be fighters, and that was why others could dedicate their time to Science and Art.

In the end, they worked out a good enough plan that integrated the Aesir warriors's strengths and tactics with those of human armies, thanks to Tony who seemed oddly knowledgeable about them, and Loki left it up to them to divide their numbers into squadrons for him and Jane Foster to transport to places.

It was an exhausting hour and a half in total, and Loki was fretting about all the messages he might be missing thanks to his ruined phone the whole time. When they were done, he escaped to the bathroom to freshen up, pulling Tony — who was still in the suit — after him by the hand.

"I thought it would never end," Loki whispered, before splashing cold water into his face. His hair was a mess, after running his fingers through it so much, and his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was in his pocket, since he had become overheated under the intense scrutiny of people who had at the very least disliked him for centuries.

Tony was watching Loki primp in the mirror as the he complained, only bringing mirth to the mortal. "Hah. Well isn't that what we were aiming for? They actually listened to us," he said proudly, folding his arms. Loki had had all the attention he deserved during the meeting, and Tony would definitely take credit for at least a portion of that.

Loki grinned at him, thinking he was right. Only then did he notice how tired Tony looked. He had been so focused on his own that he had been blind to them. "How are you feeling? Do you want me to take you home or can you manage in the suit?"

Tony tried to stretch in the Mark 39, the many points of articulation allowing for maximum flexibility, even if the bathroom did feel small with a god and a man in a full armor suit occupying it. He could use a damn nap after this, what with their hectic morning, work, and the whole flying into space and running from Moby Dick's evil cousin. "I'm doing alright," he replied. "Tired as hell. You can't come home?" the man frowned, putting on a pouting face. He'd been looking forward to dragging the God of Chaos home for a nice cuddle session but you know, end of the world and all that. "You look beat. I'll be fine, I can autopilot my way home from uh, wherever _here_ is." Tony waggled a hand.

Loki smiled gently and stepped closer to Tony, his hair, now wet, slicked back against his scalp. Without warning, he cupped Tony's still helmeted head and pulled him into a chaste kiss, huffing through his nose when Tony's beard tickled him. "I only wish my day were over," he sighed against Tony's mouth, his arms curling around his neck and shoulders, uncaring of the fact that they were clad in metal. He remained there almost a minute, being held by Tony in return, as he gathered from his support strength enough to pull away and face the world. "I wish I could close my eyes and sleep while you carry me home, holding me just like this," he murmured, brushing his nose along Tony's and looking deeply into his eyes as he pulled away.

That Loki wouldn't be returning home this evening did put a dent in the billionaire's current mirth, but he drew his own revelry in seeing how much strength he could offer a _god_. Loki needed him just as much as he realized he needed Loki. How he'd even gotten to this point, to this way of thinking was beyond him, but Tony didn't seem to care. "Maybe one day, I'll catch you sleepy enough to carry you home."

Feeling a lot better, Loki withdrew the silken tie from his pocket and unwound it, looking mournfully at the wrinkled length. He held one end between two fingers and pulled it through, his magic pressing the fabric without damaging the fibers.

Tony surprised him by taking it from him and tying it around Loki's neck with bulky but not clumsy fingers.

Touched, Loki grabbed the gauntleted hands as they retreated and kissed them, before smiling shyly at his precious, precious lover. He was still wearing the little smile as he led Tony out of the tiny bathroom, the armour clunking comically with every step Tony took. "Go, Lover. I expect I will not make it home for dinner," what with having to help Jane Foster deliver the Aesir to various places, then return to relay the new plan to his team, then collect on the promises of nuclear missiles to send through to the vicinity of Mars. "But save me a place in your bed, if you will," he winked.

"Well alright. If you can't make it," Tony murmured, "just don't work yourself to death. All of this planning would be kind of a moot point if that happened." He gave his biggest grin before leaning over and stealing another kiss for himself, his armor making the gesture that much easier for the shorter man. "I'll leave leftovers in the fridge," he said, stepping away. "Just gonna head back to East Hampton and get some test data, then I'll head home. Text me if you need anything, Baby." Another chaste kiss (hey, they were addicting) before the man turned to where he had perceived the exit, striding through the cluttered workspace and out.

If Loki was still working himself to the bone, Tony had no right to just head straight back to the tower and catch a few Z's. He had to keep working. Iron Man left the building with the comfort of knowing the Asgardians could be trusted with Loki, shooting off into the sky again.

"Hey Bruce, you'll never guess what happened," Tony said giddily, patching a call through to the man who sounded like he had just jumped, the reception fuzzy but not from interference.

"Do you really have to call while I'm in the shower?" the scientist mumbled through the hissing of water. That's what the sound was. "And why do you even have phone service in your showers, Tony? Please don't tell me there's cameras in here too…"

Tony snorted as he quickly determined where he was, New Mexico, and how long it would take him to get back to New York. "Alright. I won't tell you," he laughed.

* * *

Loki watched his lover go, not entirely sure how he was feeling. Happy? Calm? Thankful? A mixture of everything?

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his contemplation.

He turned to find Thor smiling knowingly at him. It was such an incongruous sight that his first instinct was to sneer, silently demanding '_What?_'

"Now I know where the marks upon your throat came from, Brother," the idiot said, patting Loki's back in congratulations, not even taking the care to lower his voice.

Loki narrowed his eyes at him and, fast as a snake, kicked Thor in the shin, right where millennia of trial and error had determined it hurt most. "Shut up," he answered, his cheeks pinkening in both embarrassment and rage. Did Thor think Loki so unlovable that the event of Loki's being intimate with someone was to be celebrated? Or did he simply assume Loki had mellowed out because of something as trite as sentiment, and was needling him for it?

Thor, naturally, raised his leg with a howl of pain and cradled it with his hands, hopping on one foot to keep his balance.

It was simply a matter of poking him in the side to make him lose it and come crashing down sideways, laughing, and then Loki took advantage of Thor's low position to step on his chest with one foot, pressing down. "Take care not to jest about it, _Thor_, or it may very well be the last laugh you ever have."

Whiskers still twitching in amusement, Thor raised his hands in the gesture of surrender. As soon as Loki relaxed the pressure, Thor swept Loki's legs out from under him with his own, making his blood-brother collapse inelegantly next to him with a squawk.

"Thor!" Loki gasped, playfully enraged, and grabbed Thor's long golden locks, pulling on them, his other hand poised like scissors threateningly close to them.

Thor went immediately still, eyes wide. "Not the hair, not the hair!" he exclaimed, playing along, and then started shaking in contained laughter.

Loki watched him for a few minutes, eyes narrowed, serious but for the corners of his mouth, which were twitching madly. Then, apparently satisfied, he let go of Thor's precious mane and stood up, dusting himself in a dignified manner. He offered a hand up to the big oaf.

After being pulled into a standing position by his brand-new blood-brother, Thor licked his lips nervously and leaned closer to him. "Do I need to warn him about you?" he asked in a whisper.

Rolling his eyes, Loki slapped him upside the head. "What part of '_do not speak of it_' did I not manage to get across your thick skull?" He chastised. Regardless, he still answered, looking away. "And no. There is no need." Tony knew him too well and he was also very clever; he would guess what to do and what not to do easily enough.

Thor grinned. "Then, do I need to warn him not to hurt you?" He could tell this was serious, mainly because of how Loki looked at the mortal with that expression of never-ending wonder, and he had no desire for the Man of Iron to screw it up.

"_Please_, Thor. Remind me again whom you are speaking to?" Loki was perfectly capable of defending himself.

Chuckles shook Thor's frame as he recalled what had happened to the last person who had dared to take liberties with Loki's love, such as it was. "Very well. Need I warn _you _not to hurt _him?_ He is my brother in arms, after all."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You fought _one battle_ together." Maybe it wasn't so ridiculous that he had fallen in love with the man in five days, when Thor was claiming him as a dear friend after two conversations and one fight. "Still, you need not. Even if I were stupid enough to throw him away, Tony should be able to let me know his _opinion_ on the matter by himself."

"Ha!" Thor barked, slinging an arm around Loki in a one-armed hug. "That he will! Very vocal, that one."

Loki made no move to return the hug, but also made no move to pull away. If he was to be entirely truthful, he had missed this. The casual needling, the camaraderie, even Thor in a good mood. Even though he had told Thor he needed no one protecting his honor, Loki was still warmed by the knowledge that if he really needed Thor this time, Thor would come. Loki had been all by himself for years; having Thor there, guarding his back again, was such a relief that Loki had no words for it.

After a moment, he pulled away, claiming Thor's chainmail pinched his skin, even though it was always been that way since Thor received his armor for the first time, and Loki had never complained about it before.

It was time to return to saving the universe.

* * *

After sending the new plans to Rhodes and telling him to explain the situation as the military liaison he was, Loki and Foster worked to deliver the Aesir to their respective new battlefields. Stable portals were a drag to make, but Loki was incredibly thankful for Jane Foster's science and assistance; he would buy her flowers afterwards. And possibly also ice-cream.

Then Loki had packed up the device, said his farewells, and teleported from country to country to collect a fourth of every nuclear arsenal. The mortals, no matter their nationality, had all _ooh_ed and _aah_ed when he whipped out Foster's device, which still had no name but he had taken to calling "Foster Bridge" to explain it, and had generally a lot of fun aiming the missiles and firing them at Thanos's army.

It was too big to make much of a real dent, but they took care to chip away at the "motherships", as the mortals so quaintly called them, reducing the command centers even though the number of Chitauri drones remained relatively the same. He didn't dare even glance at Thanos's ship, the biggest one, though. Not yet.

He told them to arm the rest of the missiles and ready them for battle, for only the upper echelon of each country's army knew about the Aegis and the Framrherrlae, and it would help assuage the masses.

By the time Loki got home, magically and mentally exhausted, nearly twenty percent of Thanos's army was rubble. Sure, the other motherships could assimilate the leftover drones, but it would take them time. Precious time Earth needed to finish preparing.

"Jarvis," Loki said, pulling off his tie and throwing it over the back of the sofa, "please tell Tony I am home." He went straight into the kitchen, ravenous.

* * *

After hitting up East Hampton to check on the aftermath of the Frannie's discharge (and there had been a sizeable zone affected around the weapon, though thankfully no one had been hurt), Tony returned home. He had spent the flight from New Mexico in a dozing state for a couple of hours, wanting to conserve what little energy he had left for Loki's return. The flight home to Manhattan from East Hampton was too short to continue his interrupted nap.

It was already late when Tony arrived on the landing zone of the Stark Tower, Jarvis finally peeling away the used Mark 39. A light sweat coated his body, Tony finally feeling just how exhausted and grimy he was. Despite all of the bone-tiredness that weighed on his bones, he was pretty sure Loki would just kick him out of the bed for smelling bad anyway, interrupting his precious sleep, so he opted for a shower.

One almost-scalding shower later saw the billionaire a little more refreshed and ready for bed. He'd foregone shaving, primping, and even dressing, settling for plopping himself face first into the heavy mattress and deciding if he accidentally suffocated like this, Loki could just do his wizard hoodoo and bring him right back. Because he was _damn comfy _right now and nothing could keep him from his well-deserved slee—

'_Sir. I do hate to interrupt, but Loki has just arrived on the premises,'_ Jarvis called from all around.

Tony simultaneously groaned into a pillow and hummed happily at the news. Well, maybe he wouldn't be falling asleep alone tonight after all. "Thanks Jarv, duly noted," hr murmured, burrowing himself under the sheets and pillows, seeking both comfort and obscurity with the sheets pressed against his naked body. Maybe if Loki wandered close enough, he could jump out and—

No, wait. No surprises. He remembered the dagger. Oh, the dagger.

"Ok," Tony murmured, grinning, "tell him that..."

* * *

"Sir says to tell you that you sexy, awesome, genius billionaire playboy is waiting upstairs and that thes bed isn't going to warm itself," Jarvis relayed Tony's message.

Loki snorted around the mouthful of dinner, almost choking in laughter. "Tell him I'll be right over," he replied, grinning tiredly, and took a swig of wine. He had felt like something a bit stronger than ale, and Tony had the best taste in wine Loki had had the pleasure to experience since one of the Vanir princes had invited him to his coming-of-age ball.

Despite being quite eager to join Tony and perhaps just holding him for a long period of time, Loki took his time with his dinner, needing the energy. Sure, he was able to draw it from the harmonic movement of celestial bodies and the tides, the wild, chaotic fluttering of the wind, the plate tectonics and the churning of magma underfoot, but he was still a hedonist, and few things other than sex satisfied that craving as well as good, abundant food and artful, almost scientifically brewed wine.

When he was done, he grabbed another wineglass and took both and the bottle to the bedroom, Jarvis turning off the lights as he walked past empty rooms. Bruce, apparently, was nowhere to be seen, or maybe it was too early for his bedtime. Good; more privacy, then. They had the apartment to themselves.

Loki stepped out of his shoes as he came into the room and, seeing Tony was doing his best impression of a caterpillar in a pupa again, decided against taking the wine to bed. He finished his glass and set everything on the dresser, making very little noise.

"Evening, Tony," he said softly, not wanting to wake his lover if he was indeed asleep. "I am putting on a show for you, so you had better look," he added in an even softer murmur, taking off his suit jacket and starting on unbuttoning his shirt. He was too tired and exhausted to even vanish his clothes with magic, so he would have to do it by hand. When he looked up from undoing the button and zipper of his trousers, he spotted Tony's dark eyes looking at him from under the covers and waved amicably.

After quickly, but still sexily, shedding the trousers and underwear, he took off the undershirt as he slipped into bed next to Tony. His socks he removed when he was already under the covers, shimmying to manage it, and dropped them off down the precipice of the edge of the bed. Then, sighing in contentment at how warm the bed was, he scooted up to his prone lover and relaxed into him, kissing his shoulder affectionately as Jarvis, clever boy that he was, turned off the lights. "I'm home," he murmured against Tony's skin as he slung one arm around his waist, not even bothering to speak formally.

The warm body sliding up next to him brought Tony more comfort than he had initially expected, the billionaire having enjoyed the little show Loki had put on. The god smelled of the day, of hard work and light perspiration, Tony burying his face against the crook of the other's neck to breathe in deeply. He pulled the covers almost completely over his lover with a, "Hmmm. Here, join me in my Batcave," and laughed, snuggling in close and offering his own warmth in the safety of his comforter. His legs wrapped possessively around Loki's, as if the god might want to escape again. "Mine, mine," Tony rumbled softly.

As if out of habit now, one hand snaked out to massage the other's shoulder half-heartedly, offering a small reprieve from the day's harshness. If Tony felt bone-tired, he couldn't imagine what Loki would be feeling right now. He honestly didn't know how Loki did it. And he wasn't even sure Loki ran on heavy doses of caffeine! "So, how was work?" he said with a yawn. "Please tell me your brother and all his fanboys behaved too," Tony murmured into Loki's neck tiredly. "I don't know if I could handle another whole day of trying to convince them to listen to us."

Loki hummed in pleasure, relaxing even further. It wasn't just the warmth that did him in, it was also the affection. It was how stupidly _happy_ Tony was to see him, how he asked how Loki's day had gone as if he honestly wanted to know, how he clutched him so firmly as if Loki could disappear at any moment.

"They did, rest assured," he answered, nuzzling Tony's forehead and kissing it softly. "It wasn't just your rousing speech; Thor apparently also held the same opinion all along, his acolytes were just too blinded by his sunny glow to see his brother in the shadow." Loki pressed his lips to Tony's head again, infinitely thankful but not knowing how to show it.

That Thor had agreed with the two all along only made Tony hold the other in a better light. The Thunderer had already scored a few more points when Tony had learned that he still held Loki so closely to his heart (the big guy had one of the biggest hearts he knew), even after all the shit Loki had put him through. Even back during Loki's initial invasion of Earth, the billionaire had seen just how hurt and lost Thor had looked in his search for his brother.

Loki's hand stroked up and down Tony's back, catching in the lines of powerful muscles, brushing along every knob of his spine. "I love you," he breathed tiredly, "but I am not sure I can manage to pleasure you tonight." It was a sad state of affairs when a relatively young god couldn't muster the libido to make love to his precious lover, but he was too tired. He really hoped Tony wouldn't mind, but he understood some men expected sex every night, even when their partner wasn't much into it. "I hope you will forgive me," was the best he could offer, slightly anxious about what Tony would answer.

Tony was busy thinking back to Loki's invasion when he realized what Loki had said next, the look of pensiveness on his lover's face in the dark so easily apparent. "Oh, no. What _ever_ am I gonna do without having you over and over again tonight?" Tony sighed dramatically, before smiling and pecking a kiss against the pointed tip of his lover's nose. "I'm kidding. Go to sleep, baby. You did awesome today." This came with the nuzzling of his nose against the other's, Tony's body tired and folding against the god's.

Loki was so relieved he would have to invent a new language to express it in words. Luckily, he didn't need to; he just needed to return Tony's eskimo kiss and cuddle him closer, feeling their naked skin rub pleasantly.

"I'm kinda pooped too, to be honest," Tony admitted, and that was an understatement. A wry smile came to his lips though, as he did his best to pull Loki closer and make himself comfortable. "Who knows? Maybe if I get up early enough, I can have my way with you in the morning while you catch some Z's."

"Hmmm, that sounds lovely," Loki agreed sleepily, shifting a bit until Tony's chin stopped poking him in the shoulder. "Maybe I can wake up to your cock inside me," he added, grabbing at Tony's bum, making him chortle, and releasing it with an amused huff before letting his arm fall comfortably. Since Tony's hair tickled his nose every time Loki inhaled, he turned his face away. "Good night, Tony," he mumbled, "sweet dreams."

It took less than ten deep breaths from Tony before Loki was off in la-la land.

* * *

When Loki woke up, tensed in anticipation, he bitterly regretted that he didn't get to wake up to Tony fucking into him as he had promised. Then Tony shifted sleepily next to him, snuffling like a pup, and Loki decided that maybe it wasn't so terrible after all.

He knew with the certainty of instinct that the Chitauri would be arriving between midnight and sunup of the next day, and that therefore today would be hectic and_ a nightmare _as he ran about tying every loose end, micromanaging to make sure everything was as ready as it could be. And yet, nervous and anxious as he was, he could still spare a kind thought for Tony.

Loki realized that they hadn't has sex at all yesterday; they had cuddled and comforted each other, to be sure, but the release of orgasm had been missing. He laughed, turning his head slightly to look at Tony's sleeping face, as he admitted that sex actually _had_ mellowed him out, and had also helped him relax in the face of overwhelming stress. Interesting.

He had never had sex before a battle, no Aesir warrior that wasn't a coward running to hide under his wife's skirts ever did, mainly because it dulled the fighting reflexes. But he found himself craving it all of a sudden, wishing to be relaxed and clear-headed as the commander of the battleship what was Earth.

Of course, it helped the decision that Tony's hard member was pressing insistently and inelegantly into Loki's side.

After checking the time and seeing that they had both got a decent amount of sleep despite it still being too early for even the Sun to come up, Loki decided to wake his lover. Not knowing if Tony would appreciate being woken by Loki's cock stealing into his ass like some rogue bandit, Loki decided on a compromise and rolled Tony gently onto his back.

Ducking under the covers, since the morning air was chilly even in the climate-controlled penthouse, Loki kissed and stroked his way down Tony's chest, sucking a bruise here and there just because he could. Then, settling comfortably between his legs to wake him up with a blowjob neither of them would soon forget, Loki sucked Tony's half-hard morning erection into his mouth.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 19th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

Bruce shared a look with the Avengers over the breakfast table. He had the face of someone long-suffering and patient and surrounded with inconsiderate idiots. "Thanks for trying to keep quiet this time," he said dryly. "But the headboard banging on the wall is just as annoying."

* * *

**End notes:**

I would say "sorry for the lateness", but only about 10 of you actually care, so I won't. (If one every hundred people who read this left a review, I'd have 80 by now.)

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	29. Burn

**Chapter Title: **Burn

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length:** 6.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings:** sex.

**Chapter Summary: **Loki and Tony have some burning hot sex. After, Team Earth manages to discuss the battle plan between teasing each other mercilessly

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

Tony rode out the final chokes of his orgasm, moistening the sheets with his load as he slumped. He couldn't have held out any longer, with the way they were heatedly going at it, his world stark white before he remembered he was lying here on his stomach underneath the most sensational lover he could ever have.

When Loki regained his senses and removed his nose from where it had buried in the crook of Tony's neck, he saw the golden, flickering glow of magic that heralded his orgasm was still there, and his sated, addled brain took a few seconds to realize that _ the bed was on fire_.

In mere seconds, Jarvis seemed to realize it as well, and water rained down from the sprinklers in the ceiling.

Tony's lust-addled mind barely registered the smell of smoke before the emergency sprinklers came on (he'd never needed to use them before). "Ah, shit!" he exclaimed, shivering, as the droplets hit his body.

The water turned off soon, but not before it had drenched _everything_, killing the fire, leaving the sheets and pillows scorch marks.

Still inside Tony, Loki took a second to process the situation and then let out a peal of laughter, bending over into Tony's back.

A stray drop of water hit Tony's head, trickling into his hair, making him shiver and clench up (poor Loki's dick). Tony joined in with the laughing. "Hahaha! I'm sorry. I _have_ to say it," Tony snickered, biting his lip as his hands clenched in sopping wet sheets. "That was the hottest morning I've ever had. And I'm _all wet_ over it too," he gave his most shit-eating grin, turning his face to look up at his drenched lover. "Well," he shifted, "I guess we can forgo the shower. What do you think, _Hot Stuff?"_

Tony Stark was on a roll.

Loki's laughter, which had been dying down, came back with a vengeance, and for a moment there, as he guffawed and chortled and snorted inelegantly, he thought it was the best way to die. Still, even as he fought for breath, he managed to extract his softened cock from Tony's death grip and fall onto his side.

His hair, sopping wet, clung in locks to his face and neck, and the ruined sheets, now transparent and sticky with water, attempted to do the same.

"Your puns are terrible, Lover." Loki's voice was breathless and rough, but still unmistakably tender, just like the hand that reached out to stroke Tony's head. "But," Loki grinned mischievously, "two birds, one stone. We managed to have shower sex this morning as well..." His eyes narrowed in mirth and his other hand flew to his mouth. He bit the knuckle of his index finger, trying and failing to stifle his giggles.

They laughed a bit longer, before the amusement petered out in favor of reality coming crashing in.

Loki got up, stretched, and rounded the bed to pull Tony to his feet. "Shower," he murmured urgently, kissing Tony chastely as soon as he was standing. "But, before that..." he trailed off, grabbing the ruined sheets and peeling them off the bed. "I want this mattress still usable for when I take you tomorrow night in celebration of our victory."

It was a promise, of course, hidden under a whim. To celebrate, they would need to be not only alive, but also uninjured.

A spell made short work of drying the mattress and the carpet. The sheets, covers and pillows were a regrettable loss, but not one they couldn't get over easily enough with a little mourning, so Loki simply made them disappear into his space pockets, to be properly disposed of later.

Then, taking Tony by the hand, Loki led them to the bathroom, where they washed each other — with some touching of very inappropriate places — and warmed up from the cold sprinkler water — with more touching, but the hot water helped. As they exited the bathroom, Loki shaved Tony and dried both of them, and then they got dressed together, before going to the kitchen to cook their breakfast.

And if Loki stuck to Tony like a barnacle on a whale, not letting him out of his sight for a second before he had to leave... Well, Tony didn't complain.

* * *

Bruce shared a look with the Avengers over the breakfast table. He had the face of someone long-suffering and patient and surrounded with inconsiderate idiots. "Thanks for trying to keep quiet this time," he said dryly. "But the headboard banging on the wall is just as annoying."

Tony snorted around a sausage dipped in syrup while the rest of the table — sans Loki — either made a face or didn't react at all (here's looking at you, Natasha). Clint's disgusted look as well as the beet-red blush of Steve's cheeks was absolutely _priceless._

The guiltless billionaire lifted his hands and made the motion of holding a camera, snapping his finger with a motion when he had aimed it at the two. "Cha-chnk!" Tony laughed, one eye closed.

In the same moment, the sound of an actual camera going off echoed through the room, Jarvis having had the silent command installed about a year back.

"Precious. I'm so keeping these for posterity."

It helped to keep their spirits high, what with the upcoming war and all. Despite Stark's familiar antics, even he could feel the nervous snap of energy in the dining room, electric and alive. They all knew it was coming, they just didn't know how it was all going to end.

Loki glanced around at the outraged faces and grinned. Very casually, he leaned over to Tony, picked the half-eaten sausage off his plate and, watching Rogers out the corner of his eyes, licked the syrup off obscenely, the corner of his mouth twisting up wickedly.

The Captain sputtered and looked around at anything but Loki, turning even redder, and Natasha, of all people, chuckled darkly.

Encouraged, Loki went a step further. He sucked the sausage into his mouth with hollowed cheeks, winking at Bruce, and then swallowed it whole just like that. He licked his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as if he was relishing in the aftertaste.

The playboy found himself shifting in his seat at the display, clearly not unfazed by the sausage thing either. "You're horrible," he snickered, feeling a modicum of pity for the Captain.

As if nothing had happened, Loki leaned over and asked lover in a throaty murmur that carried to the whole table, "Are you going to post those pictures on Tumblr, too, or will you have Bruce do it again?"

Bruce, who had been looking away from the display, choked on his herbal tea and sputtered.

Clint decided to be solidary and started hitting him on the back, completely disregarding Bruce's hands trying to push him away.

"Y-you know?" Bruce managed, turning pink from the effort and the attention, and glared slightly at Tony.

"Hey, _I_ didn't tell him," Tony shrugged innocently at Bruce, finding it hard to be in dour spirits with the company he was sharing. "And don't worry. Jarvis knows what to do. He's linked to my Tumblr now, too."

Loki smiled mysteriously and started piling sugar into his second mug of coffee. "I _deduced_ it," he clarified, stirring the six spoonfuls into the liquid with the soft tinkling of a metal on porcelain. "It was not terribly hard," he added with a raised eyebrow, trying his coffee, before grimacing and adding another spoonful. "Milk, please?"

"Here, I'll get it for you, babe," Tony offered, hopping up out of his seat and heading for the kitchen (but not before 'accidentally' brushing his ass against the god. Whoops). He made sure to swipe the other, unmolested sausage from his plate and pop it in his mouth before going off to retrieve the milk.

"S-so, uh. Do we have any revisions to the game plan before it all starts?" Steve finally spoke up as Tony disappeared into the kitchen, clearing his throat. He needed a distraction anyway to help with the flushing of his face. And, as ever, the good Captain was all business. "You said we have less than a day now, right?" He was looking right at Loki, everyone else following the motion.

Loki's unconscious smile turned into a frown, and a vertical line appeared on his forehead, right between his eyes. He sighed, and suddenly looked his age even as he dabbed delicately at his mouth with a napkin to get rid of the syrupy residue. "Indeed. I expect they shall begin the attack before dawn tomorrow, and we know not where they shall attack first."

"Ugh, I hate waiting," Clint commented, stealing a rasher of bacon from Natasha's plate.

She retaliated by taking it from him just as he was about to put it in his mouth. "I think that is rather the point." She bit into it with a gentle crunch, smirking at Clint challengingly.

"Oh, it's _on_," he warned, smiling with far too many teeth before attempting to steal another.

Loki watched them play, not sure how he felt about it. He had discovered humans were resilient, but nothing highlighted it so much as seeing them romping about carefreely when war, possibly even their complete xenocide, was literally on the horizon. It was both disconcerting and heart-warming.

Tony came back with the milk, handing it over before taking his seat, using the opportunity to slide his chair an inch or two closer to Loki.

"Thank you, my dear," Loki murmured, brushing his fingers over Tony's in a discreet show of affection. He added some milk to his coffee to cut the bitterness he could still taste under the sugar. "As for your earlier question, Captain, here is the new plan." He told the room about Thor and his warriors, and about the nuclear missiles he had sent through the Einstein-Rosen bridge, to generalized cheers, and he finished with, "...and now all that remains is tying up loose ends."

"Wow," Rogers murmured breathlessly after Bruce had quickly explained what an Einstein-Rosen bridge actually was. "You guys really have been working hard." He had to hand it to them: while Tony and Loki were an odd (okay _more_ than bizarre) pairing, they were impressive. With the wormhole device and the space suits and the protective planetary defenses, they really got stuff done.

Strangely enough, that had Captain America thinking that perhaps it really had been luck that Loki had come to their planet on their side (now that they knew it). Were he to have said this to himself a month ago, that he was on Loki's side, he might've punched himself until he felt he was cured of his compromised thoughts. He would've thought himself insane.

Tony looked like a proud fighting cock, with his chest puffed out a little. "Yeah, it was nothing really," he grinned at the soldier. "Also, get a room, you two." It was aimed at the two assassins, who were still waging a discreet and lightning-fast war for bacon. Which reminded the playboy... He was totally going to sneak in some time to fuck Loki senseless before the world possibly ended. If the opportunity provided itself of course.

It was easy to see just how much of a mental tangent he was pursuing, spacing out, when Bruce snapped his fingers before the inventor's face. "Hey, stay with us here, Tony. You can entertain your weird mental fantasies later," the scientist stuck a tongue out.

"You know, that reminds me," Tony perked up, as if nothing had just happened, "How come some of the Chitauri are still here, working for you, Lokes? What, did they not get the memo or something? Shouldn't we be... I dunno. Keeping a closer eye on them?"

"And for the record, if Thor is here to help us, why didn't Asgard destroy these guys already?" Steve couldn't help but ask. From what they all knew of Thor's grand boasting of his tales, their race was a formidable bunch capable of travel across the stars. So why hadn't they already addressed a threat like this Thanos guy?

Loki's eyebrows rose at the barrage of questions. "The Chitauri still here are mine own," he explained, withdrawing one of the light purple energy sources he still had on him.

Everyone but Tony and Bruce, who had seen one already and had used it to program the Framrherrlae's aiming routine, leaned forward curiously.

"Whoever holds this controls the Chitauri bonded to it," Loki explained, and then summarily handed it over to Rogers. "Here. You are the one with most experience in commanding an army aside from myself, and I predict I shall be too busy to take care of it."

Steve blinked and hesitated before taking it, exchanging glances with Natasha and Clint. At their minute nods, he took the glowing cylinder and held on to it, not quite knowing what to do with it.

Pretending the hush that came over the room was completely natural, Loki continued. "I will expect you to practice before the battle. Also, should our defenses be penetrated," he remembered the weak point in the Aegis, "you will want to order the drones to die, or they could be controlled by the invading force's devices." He took a swig of coffee, finally happy with the taste.

Steve was looking down at the — thing. Remote control? With his _mind_? "Thanks?" he said, his voice lilting up at the end as if in a question. He was not too sure he wanted the responsibility of learning how to use it, but he appreciated Loki's trust.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait, hold on!" Tony said in excitement, holding his arm out and waggling his fingers at Steve and the arcane object. "Hand it over. We've _got_ to make them do the thriller before they all start dying off, c'mon!"

Everyone just paused, giving him a look. Especially Steve.

The billionaire pouted, "What? It'd look awesome on my Tumblr."

Loki looked confused. "What is 'the thriller'?" he asked, unknowingly voicing Steve's question.

Bruce, ever patient, explained. "A dance. Traditionally performed by zombies." Then he casually grabbed a pancake and slathered it with syrup.

Steve and Loki nodded, murmuring some version of "I see," even when they really, really didn't.

Clint snickered and offered Bruce a fist-bump. Back before Loki had imprisoned him, he hadn't appreciated how much of a troll the unassuming scientist could be. Granted, they had had other things to worry about, and Bruce had mostly gone off with Tony, but still.

Natasha's voice interrupted his appreciation of Bruce. "And the rest of us?" she asked, swirling the orange juice in her glass as though it were expensive vodka.

"I have to go back to my team and the military liaisons," Loki answered, somber. "You may do as you wish. Perhaps, since the fight will not be, we hope, on-planet, you could learn to pilot and shoot the jets we have equipped with the portable versions of the Framrherrlae."

Natasha nodded, and Clint looked delighted at the prospect of getting to fire the powerful weapons.

Loki's hand reached behind Tony's neck to stroke it gently. "Meanwhile, Tony and Bruce will be making the finishing touches on the Framrherrlae and the Aegis, I suppose?" His voice lilted upwards into a question at the end and he looked to Tony, askance.

"Yep yep," Tony confirmed with a wink before taking a sip of his black coffee and humming at the touch. As if he didn't get enough of it in bed. "We're pretty much almost done, so the rest of the time, I'm gonna see if we can't find anything else out about those ugly bugs." Finishing off whatever was on his plate, Tony added, "Also. If anyone's having problems with their devices, lemme know, Lokes. I can probably walk 'em through fixing them up if, you know, the engineers failed to read the instructions."

And if he had time, maybe the billionaire could pay the god a visit at work. It wasn't like distance really was an issue for Iron Man, considering he'd just been dashing around space yesterday.

"Sounds like a plan," Steve said, already standing and grabbing his empty plate and utensils, moving to the kitchen to deposit them. "The evacuations are underway. I'll probably head out to check the status of the nearby cities." Besides, he didn't like sitting around twiddling his thumbs anyway.

"Ah, most excellent," Loki replied, draining his glass of orange juice. He looked at his watch and pulled a face. Hm. It seemed Tony's and his morning activities had eaten their time. "I suppose I should be going," he announced, before standing up and stretching.

A chorus of half-hearted "_Bye, Loki_," filled the room.

Loki grinned and winked at them. "Do not sound so eager to get rid of me," he chided them playfully, ruffling Bruce's hair. Then he retrieved his coat and briefcase, kissed Tony on the temple, waved them goodbye, and vanished from his spot with the soft _pop_ of displaced air.

Tony had accepted the kiss, closing one eye, and downed the rest of his bitter drink while his lover disappeared faster than the girl from I Love Jeannie (blame Jarvis for leaving whatever on the TV while he worked). "Bye," he quipped belatedly before turning to the rest of his group, looking like he'd just committed some horrible act of crime.

Clint snorted derisively. "Who would have guessed that getting laid would be enough to domesticate a psychotic alien, huh?" he asked Natasha, loudly enough to be heard in the entire room.

A hush came over them, one that had nothing to do with people not having anything to say and a lot to do with glares and warning looks.

Bruce broke it by tossing an orange peel at Clint, hard.

It hit him on the nose, and he squawked in outrage before getting it off his face and glaring at Banner.

"You are an idiot," Bruce said softly, his eyes narrowed, "if you think for one second that Loki is domesticated."

Natasha nodded in agreement. "Yes, we saw him mad with Fury a few days ago. We know." She raised an eyebrow pointedly at her fellow assassin.

That cooled Clint's engines a bit, and he looked away, biting his lip. He didn't apologize, but he didn't toss the orange peel back at Bruce, either, which was more of a concession than anything else he could have done.

It was only Tony that snorted in amusement. "Yeah, Bruce's right though. That man is _not_ domesticated. In any sense of the word," he grinned over his mug. "You should've seen the _fires."_

* * *

**T.B.C. on Thursday 22nd of August. **

**Scene from next chapter: ** _"So how'd people take the Asgardians coming into town?" Tony figured he'd ask. "And please tell me everyone prepped their weapons like they were supposed to. I think last time I checked, Jarv read about eighty-six percent of all shipped weapons online. These guys are slackers," Tony huffed, "It's not like it's the end of the world or anything." Only eighty six? Loki frowned. "When did you last check?" he muttered. "I was informed today that all the Framrherrlae towers were fully assembled, and the mobile units were operational." The military had taken to calling them 'Bigger Berthas' for some reason, despite the nickname Stark had given them — Frannie — making much more sense._


	30. Lull

**Chapter Title: **Lull

**Chapter Rating**: M.

**Chapter Length: **5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings**: Sex in inappropriate places.

**Chapter Summary:** Tony decides to bring Loki lunch at the Oval Office, and one thing leads to another...

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki gratefully received the plastic cup with coffee from his secretary, took a swig, and returned to the hologram of planet Earth floating above the table. "So, as you see, we are sufficiently defended," he finished his exposition.

The people around him and on the screen on the far wall looked slightly dubious.

Well, he knew it was possible could have explained the plan with more zest. But humans were doubtful by nature — it was almost instinct for them. Loki approved of it, since he personally thought a bit of skepticism was healthy for the soul, but he couldn't help but find it annoying when confronted with it.

"So," the Russian delegate in the UN began, "we are to allow these, erm, _Aesir_ into our cities? Cities that are deserted of their citizens?"

And there it was. They _still_ thought this was all an elaborate ploy for Loki to conquer the rest of Earth.

Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could have sworn they'd had this conversation several times before, but apparently Russians had very selective memory. Well, the Chinese too, to be fair. And the French. And every other nationality so far. He exhaled softly, feeling like tearing the hair off his head, and spoke very, very calmly. "But not of their armies," he repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

The Chinese delegate was unamused. "Which are to obey this warriors of yours," he complained, crossing his arms.

"What?" Loki exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. "No! Who told you that?" It would be a _nightmare_ if he put the Aesir in command of the human armies. "No, no, no," Loki waved his hands in front of him emphatically. He could not stress how much he wanted this to _not_ happen. "I care little what they claim, do _not_ allow them command! They have no idea what your armies and your weapons are capable of!"

The people in the screen seemed surprised and very much mollified. The Secretary was smirking slightly. There seemed to be a collective '_Well, in that case..._' feeling rolling through the audience.

"Then, we are in agreement," the Russian said, nodding.

The rest of the UN nodded along.

On Loki's right, the ex-minister of defense reached out and patted Loki's shoulder approvingly.

Knowing he had done well, Loki smirked and moved on to the next point of the meeting. "Now that that is out of the way, have you any news regarding the evacuation of the major cities?"

* * *

A couple of hours in, Tony had just finished looking over the wide expanse of Mark 39's stocked and lined up in the underground storage area he kept under his tower. He was beaming with approval.

Bruce whistled with awe as they leaned on the railing of a raised platform. "So… tell me again why anyone _else_ needs to ready their armies?" the scientist said as he stared at the sea of identical space suits.

"You know? I really don't know," Tony returned, tapping the piece in his ear to make sure it was snuggly in place. He didn't need it at the moment, but it was in his nature to make sure it worked in tandem with everything else. The billionaire lifted his hands like a conductor. "Alright, my babies. About face!"

At exactly the same time, every single armor came to life, each one taking the same step as the other. The underground warehouse filled with the sound of machinery echoing in unison. The waves of Mark 39's moved identically as they turned around, stilling again one they had completed their task.

Tony sniffled and feigned rubbing a tear from his eye. "They're so beautiful, I could cry right now."

Bruce just rolled his eyes, but there was definitely something to be said of the power Tony was wielding here. "So, what now?" he asked.

They'd already toiled in the workshop for hours, with the scientist noting down more stats from probing the alien's dead corpse (what an irony) and Tony tying up any loose ends he had with the Framrherrlae and the Aegis. Not much could be done with those; it was all up to the rest of the world to be ready with the guns the engineer had given them.

"What now?" Tony parroted. "Now, I take one of these babies for a spin and go see how things are in D.C." The billionaire leapt over the railing.

Bruce's eyes widened for a moment before he realized that one suit below had mobilized and caught Tony in midair.

The suit curled around Tony's body elegantly, even as he began shooting away towards one of the exits.

"Show off," Banner sighed. "Hey! Wait! What am I supposed to—!"

But of course, Tony was gone.

Bruce turned to the mangled alien corpse. "Well. Guess it's just me and my Chitauri buddy."

* * *

Loki watched the screen of his StarkPad. Half of the split-screen showed Captain America, complete with costume and shield, directed the few remaining Chitauri into a series of exercises with more or less success. In the other half, he could see two Quinjets flying around each other and firing beams of light erratically.

Clint Barton was more hawk-like than he cared to admit. His flight patterns reminded Loki of birds of prey, and his favorite move was a steep dive he only pulled out of at the last second.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Loki told the StarkPad fondly.

The live feed from hacked cameras around the world ceased. "You are welcome, Loki," Jarvis replied politely.

Loki sighed and reclined in his chair as far as it would go, looking at the ceiling but not seeing it. He ran the situation through his head again, trying to see if there was anything else he could be doing other than making the mortals feel useful while he and his small team got everything ready.

The Framrherrlae were all completed, connected to the Tesseract for energy and in the process of being tested. The Aegis was in place already, all set to defend Earth as soon as the first Chitauri scout ship attempted to come through. The nuclear warheads were arranged in the best possible way to destroy all life on the surface of the planet at the press of a button — a failsafe should the Chitauri get past the Aegis and the humans decide to give up the fight — that rested in the pocket of Fury himself. Mortals were too busy evacuating and mobilizing armies to start picking up fights amongst each other.

The only thing to do now was wait.

Loki hated waiting.

"Loki, your lunch has arrived," Jarvis chimed from the tablet.

The alien frowned, sitting straight in his chair again and looking down at the StarkPad. "I did not request any lunch?" he said, confused, his voice lilting up at the end, making it a question.

"Hi, Babe."

Loki spun the chair around , sitting up and grinning at his lover.

Tony was leaning on the doorframe smoothly, wearing the Mark 39 with its faceplate propped up, his mouth pulled into a smug smile.

There was a gaggle of offended secretaries and political heads fluttering around behind him. Apparently no matter how much money he had, he wasn't welcome here.

Psh. Like he cared. His boyfriend ran the whole continent right now. So there he stood anyway, no one able to stop him.

Loki's own secretary leaned in past the billionaire and made several apologies, face flushed when she remembered the bruises that had decorated the two during their public broadcasts.

Rolling his eyes at Loki, Tony proceeded to herd them all out and closed the door, turning to him when he was done. "Yeesh. They've all got their panties in a bunch out there," he laughed, a plastic bag perched in one hand, brushing himself off with the other as if he'd just walked through a dust storm. "So, I was just in town," that was a lie, "and I thought you might be feeling a bit peckish around this hour. It _is_ around your lunch time, right?" Tony waggled a brow and set the full bag down on Loki's desk.

Loki beamed at him before catching himself and taming it down a bit. He looked down at the bag. It was obvious by the shape that there were several Styrofoam containers in there. He wondered what Tony had brought him.

Tony dug out the containers and set everything out just shy of Loki's paperwork, along with plates, napkins, and forks. "Here," he said, handing Loki a set. "I know you're busy but... I missed you." It was said in earnest, Tony pawning off the plate and fork before stepping away to an unused section of the Oval Office. He stepped out of his suit and left it parked there, looking around. "You know. I've always wanted to see what the Oval Office looked like. I've never been inside," he smirked. Probably for good reason. Nobody really trusted Tony Stark around authority; he had an awful problem with it. "I hope you don't mind seafood. It's French."

Seafood. _Fish_.

Loki grinned. Tony had remembered, how lovely! He stood up, pushing his chair away with the back of his knees, and walked to meet Tony halfway. "I missed you too," he said, smiling faintly, and drew Tony into an embrace, holding him close. He smelled wonderful. Loki pressed a kiss to Tony's skin, then another higher up, and another at his jaw, until he was kissing him softly on the lips.

He absently noticed the door opening, but he was busy greeting Tony properly and trying to fuse their bodies into one, so he paid it no mind. Neither did he pay attention to the high-pitched gasp of his NASA liaison, who had come in without knocking first, or the small squeak of "Sorry, sorry," she gave before closing the door again.

If Tony was bothered by the intrusions, he surely didn't show it and in fact, was all smiles at the thought of the poor girl's face. Hey, two hot guys sucking face in the workplace, one of whom was the sexiest man in the Universe and the other the conqueror of Earth? That had to be a pretty big turn on, right?

They did stop, however, upon hearing the burst of rapid-fire chatter that broke out outside the door.

The mood was ruined.

Loki sighed, kissing Tony chastely as parting and pulling away, licking his lips. "I apologize for that," he murmured, stepping away from Tony. His hand trailed down Tony's arm and caught his broad, callused hand. "Come, let us eat." A wave of his hand moved the food and the utensils to the coffee table on the sitting part of the office, and he guided Tony to one of the creamy sofas.

Tony snorted to himself, thinking of everything people were probably saying out there while he was guided to the sofa and received a plate. The cartons held food more expensive than the furniture they were eating it on, Tony beaming as Loki dug out the four course meal (hey, his lover was a god. He wanted to make sure that godly appetite was sated).

Their little lunch date was spent casually as they dug into the osetra caviar, blue fin tuna, striped bass with red rice, and for dessert, a light chocolate and coconut cake. Tony filled the god in on his progress (there hadn't been much left to do on his part) and spoke more of Bruce's findings (he had found evidence that the Chitauri may have been on Earth longer than anyone had realized), but it was mostly just to fill the spaces while they enjoyed the good food.

"So how'd people take the Asgardians coming into town?" he figured he'd ask. "And please tell me everyone prepped their weapons like they were supposed to. I think last time I checked, Jarv read about eighty-six percent of all shipped weapons online. These guys are slackers," Tony huffed, "It's not like it's the end of the world or anything."

Only eighty six? Loki frowned. "When did you last check?" he muttered. "I was informed today that all the Framrherrlae towers were fully assembled, and the mobile units were operational." The military had taken to calling them _Bigger Bertha_s for some reason, despite the nickname Stark had given them — Frannie — making much more sense.

Tony blinked at the god's surprise. Had he been told differently? "Oh, uh," he scratched at his stubble, forking one of the last pieces of his bass. "About an hour or so ago. Dunno. Maybe there is hope for Earth yet," he shrugged.

Loki grit his teeth. "Me, about two hours ago." Heads were going to _roll_. He massaged his temples and sighed. "Argh, humans," he grumbled, annoyed, and sent Tony an exasperated look, as though it were his fault that mortals were such lying bastards.

Well, they were probably scared that Loki would end their miserable existences for failing to do as ordered, but were they really so petty that they would lie to save their hides a few more hours when the information they were hiding could change the course of the war? Loki didn't have to ponder it twice. 'Three guesses,' he thought. Loki had always been, among all the Aesir and Vanir, the one most similar to mortals, which was why he had always been an outsider surrounded by honest and dumb warriors. He shook his head ruefully. Did he know himself so little that he hadn't expected this from people so similar to him?

"Well, there is nothing for it," Loki said at last, trying not to sound as dubious as he felt. "I suppose you will have to perform your magic and help assemble the rest, Tony." He sighed. "I will be happy with ninety percent of the towers functioning." His hands curled into fists in the fabric of his trousers. "We still have nearly half a day. We can do this."

Then why was his voice wavering as though he was certain they were all going to die?

"Don't worry, babe. We got this," Tony said, noting the way Loki's fists balled up. Oh, no. Loki was stressing. "Hey, hey. I can't let my favorite god stress out," he said, setting his fork down as he shifted, settling closer so that he could reach Loki's shoulders and gently knead his fingers into tight muscle.

Loki leaned into the touch unconsciously, immediately finding it easier to breath. The cold knot in the pit of his stomach didn't quite disappear, but it loosened, and Loki found himself humming, pleased. How was it that Tony's mere presence quieted his darker feelings? Was he really so whipped?

"Jeez, you're so tense," Tony breathed, laughing because the thought that the whole situation sounded like the start of a really bad porno wouldn't leave his mind. Though… Of course his visit hadn't been entirely innocent. "So. We could do something about that, you know, Mr. Dictator," he smirked, leaning in close to run sucking kisses against the other's neck. The bruises he'd originally planted there from their very first round were almost all but gone. That just wouldn't do.

In _here_? Loki turned his head to look at Tony, scandalized. Then he thought about it, and licked his lips hesitantly, liking the idea more and more despite — or maybe _because of _— how inappropriate it was.

Wasn't this office supposed to be sacred to people who lived in Tony's country? The corner of Loki's mouth twisted up, and his eyes gleamed wickedly. Oh, defiling the church of the new gods of Democracy and Capitalism sounded like just what he needed to distract himself from the end of the world that felt inexorable now more than ever.

The smoulder of Tony's eyes kindled an answering one deep and low in Loki's belly, and his heart started beating faster as he turned in his seat to face his audacious lover. "Why not?" he said, his sultry voice a velvety caress in Tony's ears, and then he leaned back slightly, making a come-hither motion with his finger as he regarded Tony with half-lidded eyes.

And they hadn't even gotten to dessert yet.

Not that Tony was complaining or anything. Like a moth to the flame, Tony was magnetized, finding himself scooting forward and setting himself over Loki's lap as he followed up the motion with more needy kisses, sucking fresh violet flowers against the other's pallid throat.

His advances had his lover leaning backwards with every move, tilting his head back and humming pleasantly.

Tony leaned down over him, laying himself out parallel to the god. He slipped both hands behind Loki's head and took his mouth, hard and with little preface. He was enjoying the way the buttons of his jeans snagged against Loki's pressed pants with every shifting grind of his hips, when a thought came to him. Drawing a breath in through his nose, Tony relinquished that fabled silver tongue as he took in the room from the corner of his eye.

They were in the damn _Oval Office_ in the _White House_. What the hell was he doing?

Necking on the couch wasn't _nearly_ enough.

That was when the billionaire beamed and those mischievous brown eyes returned to Loki. "You know, fucking democracy into a dictator over _the_ Resolute desk is totally on my bucket list," he waggled a brow. He motioned to Loki, then himself in a 'You. Me. Desk. Now' sort of way, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"We have a perfectly serviceable couch," Loki complained, but it was just for show. Internally, he felt like his blood had turned into magma, and he _burned_ with lust. His hands travelled under the waistband of Tony's pants and made a home there, kneading the hairy buttocks hungrily.

If the White House was the church, and the Oval Office the sanctuary, the Resolute desk was the altar. And Loki did always _love_ defiling altars of gods that weren't him.

It was almost _poetic_, really.

Loki licked his lips. "Fine, yes," he acceded curtly, trying and failing to hide just how much he loved the idea. "Get up, then," he ordered, rolling his hips into Tony's to give him the initial push. The friction was delicious, especially since both of them were so hard already, and he did it again just to see Tony's eyes falling shut. "Come on," he goaded, and slapped Tony's ass the best he could under the confines of the jeans before taking them out and pushing Tony and his knowing grin off him.

They all but ran to the desk, Loki undoing his belt and trousers on the way. A flick of Loki's wrist sent the paperwork on top of it flying everywhere as they approached.

In his brief distraction, Tony tackled Loki, throwing him face-first onto the desk and pulling his pants and underwear down to under the crease of his asscheeks, baring them to the cool air of the office.

* * *

[CENSORED]

* * *

"We'd have no problem, r-repopulating the world, Love," Tony joked with the barest of breaths, making no move to remove himself until Loki made him.

Loki laughed uproariously at that. It was more than the quip warranted, but he was so giddy with orgasm that he hardly cared. He let his buttock go, instead patting Tony's back from behind in a very awkward angle. He hummed contentedly, his body little more than putty, and murmured, "Hold me." He raised his stomach a bit so Tony could fit his arms under him.

Tony did so gladly, immediately seeking Loki's neck and sucking another bruise into the skin.

They stayed like that, basking in each other's shaky breath and racing pulse for some time.

Humming one last time, Loki started wriggling, signaling it was time for Tony to get the fuck off. As soon as he did, Loki stretched his muscles and popped his back. "My dick hurts," he complained out loud, raising one eyebrow at Tony in accusation as he massaged the pain away gingerly.

He forgot to use his indoor voice, apparently, because he could hear some very significant giggling from outside the door.

Blushing bright red, Loki cleared his throat and set about cleaning himself. He got rid of his cooling spend from his expensive suit and the desk, though there was a very faint golden sheen left on the wood where it had been.

Hopefully no one would notice.

Loki's shirt and trousers stuck to his skin, as he had perspired quite a lot — he was suddenly thirsty — and his ass and inner thighs were splashed with Tony's seed, which he hadn't cleaned up on purpose. The underwear stuck as if glued to his still sensitive and slightly inflamed flesh when he tugged it up, but he didn't care. He'd get to carry around a piece of Tony, which, apart from being stupidly sentimental, would come in very useful if they got separated, for Loki could seek him out with magic.

With a satisfied chuckled, the billionaire made to stick himself back in his boxers and pull his pants back up. Unlike Loki, he couldn't just magic all the mess away (but the fact that Loki hadn't removed his seed did not go unnoticed.)

Clothing somewhat fixed, Loki plopped down in the couch bonelessly, and spoke to Tony, not even turning to look at him. "You get to fix my hair, as it is your fault it is in such disarray."

Tony smiled at the endearing act and moved to follow his flushed lover, grunting at the discomfort of walking around soiled, and plopped next to Loki. He leaned over and graced Loki with a loving kiss before running his hands through Loki's hair. With a devious grin, the human tousled the dictator's hair playfully.

Loki arched an eyebrow at him warningly.

Tony winked and finally began smoothing the hair back in the way he had always seen it styled. Then, just because he could, he gathered it into a ponytail.

Loki grinned, presenting his head and letting Tony do as he wished.

"Fffff. Why don't you wear your hair up at work, Babe? You're gorgeous," Tony murmured, stealing another kiss as his calloused worker's hands did their best to fix what he'd messed up. "I do think this whole debauched look looks good on you, too. Isn't that what you said that night we fucked?" he said loudly, finding amusement at the hushed voices outside the door.

He'd officially screwed Loki at his workplace. And that was aside from the literal sense.

"It is not a professional look," Loki countered, his hands sneaking around Tony's waist and holding it. "Although, to be fair," he added, shaking his head ruefully, "neither is getting nailed to my desk by my very virile and famous lover." He leaned forward so that his face was buried in the crook of Tony's neck. He kissed it, licking the salt off his skin exactly once, and his arms curled around Tony's waist, bringing them to an embrace. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to fix Tony's smell in his memory, desperately hoping it wouldn't be the last time he got the chance to do this.

Feeling Tony return the hug, Loki held on even tighter, his throat knotting, and trembled a bit as a shiver wrecked him. With one last sigh, he raised his head and kissed Tony chastely on the lips, no tongue but all feeling, and murmured, "Oh, Norns, but I love you." He gave Tony another kiss and pulled away completely, licking his lips and combing his hair behind his ear, looking quite coy.

Tony couldn't stop looking at him, enjoying how his eyes had gone soft around the edges. Loki always looked younger after a good fuck.

Then Loki made the mistake of looking at his watch, and groaned. "Well, we should get going," he sighed, and cupped Tony's bearded chin. "Go, Dear, I need you to check up on the Framrherrlae that aren't ready yet." He stroked Tony's cheekbone and dropped his hand. Then, he stood up, and offered Tony help up.

"Right, back to business," Tony groaned, wishing he could maybe shower before the possible end of the world. He took the proffered hand and stood, the slight difference in their height always made obvious when he found himself looking up into those enchanting eyes. Tony really didn't want to leave Loki here, but he knew he had to. '_No rest for the weary_,' he thought. With a look at Loki, he smirked. '_No rest for the wicked either._'

At least he'd had time to come down from his orgasmic high.

"Now I know why they do it," Tony smoothed a hand through his own hair.

Loki regarded him quizzically. "What?"

"Why they have apocalypse sex in the movies. That was seriously the hottest thing I've ever fucking done." Tony paused. "Well, _tied_ for hottest sex ever." He winked. Couldn't forget the flames. He was never going to let Mr. Sex Magic over there live it down.

Loki slapped him upside the head, laughing. "Go!"

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Tony said and ran both hands over Loki's slicked locks one last time. "I'll see you later, okay? Promise."

And it _was_ a promise. They'd make it to another day. Tony Stark would make sure of it.

Tony leaned up to peck his lover again, all before slapping Loki's ass (he hoped Loki could feel his seed when he did that) and heading for his suit, which he had to backpedal into. The intricacies of black and gold and silver curled around his frame again, once more transforming man into machine. The faceplate as always, was last to fall into place as he moved over to the tall windows and flicked one open.

It was a bit awkward scrabbling outside, but he really didn't want to blow a hole through the roof of the White House. And besides, this was more dramatic. And Tony was all about the drama.

He leapt out the window, hovering outside it, and blew Loki a kiss.

Loki actually leaned out the window to watch him go, and even went as far as to pretend to catch Tony's kiss and hold it to his heart like the mortals seemed to enjoy doing in romantic movies. He did not see the appeal, but he knew Tony would get a laugh out of it.

Iron Man almost fell out of the air, bent over laughing, and then took to the sky in a blaze. If the end of everything wasn't looming just on the horizon, Tony was pretty sure that shot would've been on the front.

Loki watching him go, smiling fondly. Then, after making sure his hair and attire were passingly tidy, he strode briskly to the door and wrenched it open abruptly.

His secretary and at least five more people were crowded around it, and they turned away sheepishly, immediately pretending they had been conversing among each other all along while very pointedly _not_ looking at Loki.

Oh? Loki grinned at them, his mood still good from the thorough fucking he had just received, and leaned against the frame of the door, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Well? Move along, show is over," he chided with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone, including his secretary, who actually had cause to be there, blushed slightly and ducked their heads as though Loki had slapped them all. They scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight.

Loki tried to contain a smile, but it was very obvious he was biting his lips in amusement. When he managed to contain himself, he turned around to return to his office — though it wouldn't be his for much longer, he didn't think — to continue making calls to check everything was going according to plan, and closed the door behind him.

He didn't make it two steps before he collapsed.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 26th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_Rhodey's eyebrows rose, as did his hackles. "You are not assassinating Loki," he said calmly, his voice full of warning. _

_Fury barked out a laugh. "Of course not. He's the man with the plan, after all," he snapped bitterly. "That is the problem." _

_"Tell me about it," Rhodey commiserated, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. The full weight of the situation hit him. Shit, fuck! What if Loki didn't wake up in time? _

_"That is what I'm calling about, Colonel," came Fury's answer, because apparently being distraught made Rhodey think out loud. "Did Loki leave instructions?" _

_"No," Rhodey answered simply. _

* * *

**End notes:**

The scene with the blowing kisses reminded me of the youtube video (watch?v=22ziCzq96p4) and I HAD to show it to DerrDoktor. She said, "I just pictured Loki and Tony doing that. And then... Bruce stepping in like "Guys. Stop that. We have a world to save." "

On a less amusing note, I have bad news. DerrDoktor and I have hit something of a slump. We have chapters up to 33 pre-written, but everything else... Not. SORRY. Just warning you in advance that chapter 34 may not be on shedule. :/

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	31. Galvanized

**Chapter Title: **Galvanized

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length: **6k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **mental torture.

**Chapter Summary: **With Loki in a coma, the people of Earth have to make do as best they can.

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Loki woke up and it was dark.

It made no sense. He had just been in the Oval Office. Where was he?

He stretched his hands to feel around, and found walls surrounding him.

Curved, almost organic, and cold to the touch. Glass. A fishtank, like the one Tony had made to house the Tesseract and contain its poisonous aura.

He brought a hand up in front of him and called up a ball of light, to better examine his confinement.

No light came.

That terrified Loki more than anything else. More than his apparent kidnapping, more than the cell that contained him.

The place felt old. Old and stagnant and cold and utterly, wholly _wrong._

Feeling entirely unwelcome, Loki tried to speak — to call for help or to demand explanations, he didn't know — but no words came out.

So he had lost his primary weapon, as well as his magic. Good to know.

Loki forced himself to remain calm, to think. He had done more with less, although he admitted freely, in the privacy of his own head, that escaping this time would be a feat people would sing about in ages to come. He extended his hands along the glass and felt around, trying to find a weak spot he might ram with his body, maybe carve himself an exit in the wall.

No dice. The wall was infinite. No matter how much he walked, keeping his hand on the glass as guidance, the wall stretched forever on each side.

A circular prison. No seams. No weak spots.

Loki staggered back, feeling shaky, and plopped down. '_Think, think, think,_' he told himself. A circular cell. Cold walls. No magic, no speech — oh! No air. No matter he could affect. There was nothing to see, because he didn't have _eyes_.

Astral plane. It was the only thing that made sense.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or to fear even more. He had placed numerous spells tying his soul to the soil of Midgard — to the concrete, to the water, to the iron buried in the walls of the buildings — to prevent exactly this. Who was powerful enough to simply _reach and steal his soul from his body_? The last time he had been summoned through the astral plane—

_Oh, no. _Was this the work of the Other? Or of Thanos?

Of course it was Thanos. Who else's will was strong enough to keep _Loki_ confined?

Feeling dread pulling him down, Loki centered himself and opened his third eye.

_AH, AWAKE AT LAST, TRICKSTER._

The spectral voice had come from behind him — and it certainly wasn't the Other's voice. Loki turned around and had to fight to keep himself calm. "So I warrant the attention of the Overmaster himself?" he asked, affecting a curious tone, as though he had been taking a stroll through the gardens and found a particularly sweet-smelling flower.

Thanos didn't answer. He remained impassive, his massive grayish-purple body unmoving. He might as well be sleeping.

Then Loki felt as if he was being squashed down by a boot; it crushed him down into the stone below, as though he had gained five thousand pounds, as if gravity had suddenly multiplied itself twenty times. The force of Thanos's will laid him flat, and it was immovable. It was _immense._

Had Loki possessed lungs, he would have been straining to haul in even the smallest breath to ask for mercy. Still, Loki reminded himself, he was a prince of two realms, and a conqueror of yet anoth—

Oh, no, _Earth. _It had lost its commander on the cusp of war! They _needed_ Loki!

He tried to gather up his will, to thrust that _unstoppable force_ away from him, but he couldn't focus.

As if he could hear Loki's thoughts — and maybe he could, for all Loki knew — a wide grin spread over Thanos's shadowed face, his eyes shining like will-o'-the-wisps in the darkness. The cold amusement distracted him, bringing just a tiny lessening in the pressure — not much, but enough that Loki could focus his will.

It was not enough, not nearly, and he splintered his mind into two, and tried again. Then three pieces. Then four. Then ten. Then a hundred. The pressure diminished by increments, but he paid for it in mental strain the likes of which he had never felt before. It took two hundred and thirty six pieces of Loki, willing in concert, to make him able to stand again.

It was too many; Loki had never attempted more than a hundred simultaneous spells before, and that was back in his reckless youth, back when testing the limits of his power had been a game. He could feel the strain of his severed, scattered mind... And yet he tore off one more splinter. "Will you make me long for something as sweet as pain?" he asked with it, sweet and casual and sounding perfectly amused at the notion.

Thanos's reply was immediate, and precise like a scalpel. _YES, LOKI_.

When the Titan said his name, said his name and _meant it_, it didn't matter that it was only a small part of Loki's full name, his _true_ Name; the flimsy tethers that had held Loki's mind together were blown away as easily as dandelion seeds in a puff of breath. It was like nothing Loki had ever felt before, not even in the Void.

The weight of Thanos's immortal will crushed Loki from every side.

Loki screamed.

* * *

While Loki's punishment was underway, unbeknownst to Tony, the billionaire's mind was set on a few things after his first call to Algeria to help out with one of the devices; one, that he was going to properly take his lover out one night after all this and have a steak dinner, two, that he was totally going to build a suit to combat these fucking grey bugs, and three, he was most definitely going to have some crazy, kinky sex with his favorite God of Lies when they won.

Of course, provided they each had all limbs intact, weren't exhausted, and could actually still properly have sex.

Iron Man soared through the clouds, condensation decorating his suit as he caught sight of his first fix-up job looming in the distance like some great sentinel on another world. It was amazing what he could conceive in so little time, if he did say so himself. "Jarvis, give Bruce a call, tell him where I am. I'll be home late. Also? Inform me when Loki arrives at the tower."

"Will do, Sir."

Already preparing himself to deal with gawking novices, Tony landed, calling out to find out who was in charge and what was needed in order to make the thing functional to his specs. His work was only just starting again. He wanted to aim for one hundred percent capability by the end of today, for Loki.

And Tony always got what he wanted.

* * *

Thomas Saunders, Loki's afternoon secretary, was sure that what little of his hair had survived his nervous habit of pulling it out when stressed was going to become gray. If he didn't die of a stress-induced stroke first.

He just couldn't deal with the barrage of telephone calls and emails anymore. It was his job to screen them and then patch the relevant ones through to Loki, only _Loki wasn't answering._

It was annoying as hell, but well, that's life when you work in high stress situations for very finicky — he hesitated to call Loki 'people' — men.

He was used to it. Really. Particularly given Loki's predilection for disappearing during lunchtime without so much as a note. And who knew if he had gone out for the meeting he was supposed to be going to when the dude could teleport, right?

But it had been three hours since he had started his shift — Alana, the morning secretary, had been blushing and struck dumb because apparently Loki had decided to have sex in the Oval Office, and she had gone home leaving their desk a complete mess — and not once had he seen Loki, or been asked to get coffee for him, or even heard his voice.

The UN had an urgent thing they needed to speak to Loki about, and they kept calling. The press kept calling as well, wanting statements. A girl from some observatory, something-Foster, was sending increasingly desperate emails. The US Navy had something to discuss as well, just as all the even vaguely military association in the world — even the terrorist cells, whom Loki had somehow convinced to suck it up and _help_.

Sandy was actually beginning to worry.

When Colonel Rhodes walked up to his desk, leaned on it casually, and asked, "Say, is Loki still here?" the secretary gave up.

"I have no idea," he said truthfully, his voice shaking slightly. "I haven't seen him at all. He was supposed to be in a meeting with the military—"

"Half an hour ago, yes," Rhodes interrupted.

Sandy swallowed. Loki, for all his shortcomings, his procrastination, and his tendency to flee the responsibility he had taken upon himself, was incredibly punctual. "You know he can teleport. I didn't see him leave, it's normal," he said with a conviction that ran hollow.

Rhodes raised an eyebrow, giving him a long look. "Yeah, no," he said suddenly, walking around Loki's secretary and opening the door to the office. He paused for a heartbeat or two and then ran inside.

The secretary, annoyed at the breach of protocol — really, everyone thought they could just _waltz _in at their leisure, when even _he_ had to knock to give Loki some paper he had asked for — turned around, intent on tearing the Colonel a new one. But the blood turned to ice in his veins, and the only thing he could think was '_Nonono, not now, why now, almost, we were almost done, no, no._'

There on the floor, limbs sprawled inelegantly, hair everywhere, and skin pale like bleached bone, lay Loki.

Rhodes was already on him by the time the secretary started to think again; he was checking Loki's pulse, Loki's breathing. He looked up sharply at the secretary. "Call an ambulance!" he barked, rolling the alien dictator onto his side.

Sandy took a huge heaving breath, gathered his wits, and nodded. Moving casually, he walked into the office and closed the door after himself, not wanting a panic in the White House, not wanting the news to get out. He walked to Loki's desk, not even pausing to consider Alana's account and how defiled the desk was, and called the very select emergency service.

Then Rhodes and him exchanged places, Rhodes making calls to key people, telling them the news, while Sandy kept watch over Loki, who seemed to be just unconscious and have a nasty bump on the head. It wasn't healing, and _that,_ above all, was troubling — Sandy had seen Loki recover from having half his body blown up, when the resistance had bombed a convoy the one and only time Loki had used one.

The paramedics came, and Sandy went with them. He tried to shield Loki's vulnerable expression from everyone, but it was to no avail — the press had found out, and they were crowding the exit. He told them that the White House would have an official press release ready, that he had no comments, and got in the ambulance with Loki.

He was, after all, one of the two people (three, counting Stark?) who knew the key facts about the dictator's biology.

* * *

Back in the Oval Office, Rhodey was trying very hard not to freak the fuck out. Who had gotten to Loki? How had they gotten to him? _Why? _

He only hoped Loki would wake up soon, be he knew it was a stupid hope, given the alien with super regeneration hadn't woken up in three hours, and worse, he still had a bump on the head and _blood coming from it._

Loki, in his arrogance, hadn't made any arrangements in case something happened to him. Which nobody had stopped to think about, because hey, immortal alien overlord there. Loki had all the nuclear missile launch codes _and_ permission to use them. Loki was the only person in the history of humanity to be able to deal with the UN and make them work efficiently, and to unify all military and civilian agencies under one command.

Loki was, quite literally, the man with the plan.

Now that he was out of commission, Rhodey feared various country leaders would squabble — over who decided what, who got what, who owed what to whom, whose fault everything was — instead of keeping on working together. He had to think _fast_.

So, naturally, the first thing he did after speaking with the hospital, with the UN secretary, and his boss, was call Tony. And pray he would answer the phone.

* * *

Tony was just on his way to Massachusetts when the call was patched through.

"Rhodey?" he had to ask. He'd been expecting a call from Jarvis or Bruce, hell, probably even Loki himself. But not Rhode, considering the man had to be up to his neck in work right now. "What's up?"

And of course, once the situation was explained, where Rhodey was trying not to freak out, Tony was… well… freaking out.

"He's _what?!"_ Tony cried into the com, knowing he was shouting and not caring.

What the fuck?! The battle hadn't even started yet! How had they gotten to Loki already?

Amidst the sheer, cold dread that was now coursing through his veins with every rapid beat of his labored heart, Tony put the two and two together quickly. He doubted gods actually suffered from fainting spells, so of course it was Thanos.

The second thing was that it was most definitely _magic._

The thought of it made him cringe. That was an area of weakness for the man of machines; he still had yet to run some tests on Loki and the abilities he could so easily wield. For now '_magic'_ remained a bane to his existence.

"We've gotta get him back, Rhodey." Obviously. There was no choice. Beyond his own worry over what had happened to Loki, he knew the world needed Loki. "I'm going to have to find someone to help out. Fuck. I don't think Thor would know anything… Alright, I'm out. Keep me posted, Rhodey. Jarv, end call. See if you can't patch me to Dr. Foster. I'm pretty sure Thor's bunking with her."

* * *

Rhodey sighed and rubbed his face in the half-desperate, half-pensive kind of way people do when then they have to decide whether to stay in the frying pan or jump into the fire. He looked around wildly while he paced the office, as if the clue to Loki's plans was hidden somewhere in there.

His eyes landed on the coffee table at the sitting area, on the dirty plates and leftovers and untouched desserts. _Seafood_. The thought, '_Thanks for all the fish,_' came unbidden into his head, and he shivered. The phrase hadn't seemed nearly so ominous in the book, but now, when confronted with the reality of Earth's imminent destruction...

The phone rang, interrupting his bleak musings.

_Loki's_ phone.

Rhodey walked towards it warily, almost as if it was about to explode. Looking down at the screen, he saw it was an unknown number. '_How mysterious,_' he thought, but it was sarcastic. He already had some idea who was calling — after all, not many people had Loki's personal phone number, or the means to get it. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the slide-to-answer, and licked his lips. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he took the call. "Hello."

There was silence on the line, and sounds of someone breathing.

Rhodey waited, his eyes roaming around the office expectantly. He sighed heavily. "Yes?" he asked tiredly.

"Fury speaking," the man on the other side said. "You are not Loki," he added cautiously.

Of course it was SHIELD. Rhodey rolled his eyes and relaxed, leaning on the side of the desk — there was something sacrilegious about sitting in the chair, so he remained standing. "No, Director, I am not," he answered, though his tone of voice didn't quite match the respect of the words. "Loki is indisposed at the moment."

"_Motherfucker._" A huff of breath. "So my little bird wasn't misinformed, after all." A sigh. Fury sounded like the weight of the world on his shoulders was pressing the air out of his lungs. "Where is he?"

Right. Spies. _Of course_. Rhodey sympathized with Fury more than he probably should. He took the phone away from his ear, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and, after a moment of silence, told Fury.

More silence. Muffled sounds, as though Fury had covered the microphone and was ordering people about. Then, "Barton's heading there," Fury told him, for no apparent reason.

Rhodey's eyebrows rose, as did his hackles. "You are _not _assassinating Loki," he said calmly, his voice full of warning.

Fury barked out a laugh. "Of course not. He's the _man with the plan_, after all," he snapped bitterly. Noises like plastic on plastic — he was tapping a pen on the table. "_That_ is the problem."

"Tell me about it," Rhodey commiserated, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. The full weight of the situation hit him. Shit, _fuck_! What if he didn't wake up in time?

"That is what I'm calling about, Colonel," came Fury's answer, because apparently being distraught made Rhodey think out loud. "Did Loki leave instructions?"

"No," Rhodey answered simply. But — no, hang on. This was _perfect._ Fury had the means. He had the people, the weapons, the logistics. Even better — he had _command of an international spy network_. "Will you assume command if...?" He trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.

Fury exhaled through his nose. "Yes." No point in beating around the bush _now_, was there?

Rhodey grinned in relief. "Good to know." He wouldn't be surprised if SHIELD had a protocol for intergalactic war — sure, it wouldn't be _Loki's _plan, but it would be something better than Rhodey, or, say, the _UN_ could come up with on such short notice. He stroked the top of the desk idly, suddenly wishing Loki was there, sitting behind it.

"But," Fury started, and there was always a _but_, wasn't there? "I will be needing intel. And your endorsement."

Why hadn't Rhodey been expecting that? "You have it," he pronounced heavily. He looked around the office once more, sighed in defeat, and added. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

Natasha was nice enough to offer Clint a drive to the hospital when they got the news, mainly because she saw how _jittery_ he suddenly got, and didn't trust him with a car, let alone his motorcycle. Clint, of course, would never admit it out loud, but he was scared shitless — Natasha knew him too well to buy his _I'm-not-affected_ act.

It wasn't that he liked Loki — though he did, secretly and very deep down — or even that he thought Loki was their only hope — everyone kind of thought that anyway. No. It was just that he _knew_ Loki, knew how resilient and wily he was, and if someone or something had gotten to Loki, and done it_ without anyone noticing_, then nobody was safe.

The only reason Natasha didn't hold his hand while they sneaked into the hospital, lying their way inside and picking the lock to Loki's room, was because they were _adults_, dammit. Though she sure felt tempted to at least touch his shoulder comfortingly when they finally got a glimpse of the man and Clint's shoulders tensed like a drawn bowstring.

"Shit," Clint growled eloquently, his hands making fists as his sides. "That bastard."

Hm. This was new. "I don't think anyone will mind if you take the chance to stab him," Natasha commented idly, completely misreading the situation.

Clint didn't laugh. "No, it's not that," he explained, his hands relaxing. He sighed, "I know what this is," and gestured at Loki's blank face.

The alien looked like he was sleeping. Not dead, not unconscious, but sleeping and even _dreaming_. His eyes were flitting around under his lids in the clear sign of REM sleep. (He looked like he should be in a Renaissance painting, too, but he always looked like that, and Clint kicked that thought out of his head.)

Natasha turned to her partner, raising an eyebrow askance. She didn't say anything, merely looking to Loki and then back to her fellow assassin. She seemed terribly relaxed and casual, but if one knew where to look, tension could be seen in her body.

"No," Clint answered her silent question. "It's not something he did to me." He bit his lip, regarding Loki's peaceful, sleeping face once more, and took out a knife.

"I thought you weren't going to stab him," Tasha pointed out with a faint quirk up in the corner of her mouth.

"Still not gonna," Clint commented absently as he very carefully made a small, shallow cut along Loki's senseless arm. He waited.

Natasha waited with him, curious.

Blood welled up, collecting at the cut. When there was enough, it dripped down Loki's arm.

Wordlessly, Clint dabbed at it with the corner of the sheet, soaking up the blood, wiping the cut clean.

More blood welled up. Nothing happened.

"Yep," Clint decided, pocketing the knife. "As I thought. Astral projection or whatever Loki calls it." He took a seat in the visitor's couch. "We're fucked," he commented happily.

Natasha raised her other eyebrow, and took a seat next to him. "You've seen this before?" she asked. She didn't really want to know the answer, but one didn't last long in her career path by avoiding hard truths.

Her companion nodded. "Yeah, back when..." he trailed off, his eyes flicking to hers and then away. It wasn't a subject he much relished talking about. "From what he explained when I asked, he goes into a trance and then, ehm, _hurls_ his consciousness? mind? over space." Clint raised his hands palms up, arms bent at the elbows by his waist and shrugged. "I would say _soul_, but..." He gave Tasha a wry smile.

She returned it, and they made fun of Loki silently for a minute.

Then Clint continued. "He sat around and went into trances," he said, his voice sounding just the slightest bit wistful. "He would look for all the world like he was meditating, but you could see nobody was home," he shrugged, staring at nothing in front of him.

Natasha gave into the urge from before and touched him. It was little more than a bump of her knuckles to his elbow, but it was enough to make him stirr.

Clint gave her a sidelong glance in gratitude, and then looked back down to his hands. "First time he did it, I asked what it was." He bit his lip, hating the feeling of nostalgia that talking about that time of his life brought him. "He told me what I just told you, and said that he uses it to communicate."

Her face impassive, Natasha joked, "No cell phones in viking land, huh?" in a quiet, toneless voice.

It got her a snort and a crooked half-smile. "No cell phones," Clint agreed, then became serious. "Loki said a person with strong enough magic and will could force the thing to happen." He licked his lips and made fists on his knees. His leg, jittery, bounced up and down repeatedly. "Not send _their_ mind, soul, whatever, over..."

"...But call someone else's to them," Natasha finished, understanding dawning on her. Clint hadn't been kidding — they _were_ fucked. Sighing heavily, she let her body drop back, relaxing into the very uncomfortable couch. It wasn't defeat slumping her shoulders, not yet... But it was close to it.

Clint laid back as well. "It's why he's not healing. No soul means no magic," he gestured to Loki's unresponsive body. "No magic means no magical healing."

Natasha grunted. "Can a soul be tortured?" she mused aloud.

Clint gave her a long look. "Probably. Even if it can't, Loki is still not coming back in time."

They mourned in silence for a bit, watching Loki's body sleep while his mind was miles away in Thanos's hands.

Then a nurse saw them and kicked them out in the polite-but-firm way only nurses can ever manage.

The two master assassins slunk away like chastised children, and decided to visit Coulson, who was in the same clinic. Before, though, they told Fury the news — they didn't want their voices breaking when the called him, and they knew they were bound to get emotional at meeting their handler alive and relatively well.

* * *

Rhodey had decided he felt really uncomfortable in the Oval Office, what with the ghost of Loki and the Presidents that had worked there before him. That was how Rhodey came to be in the conference room, telling the news of Loki's situation to his handpicked team.

"And from what SHIELD's magicians tell me, unless somehow Thanos's will falters or he gets distracted, Loki is trapped," he finished, looking around at the grim faces.

Before anyone could comment, the heavy sound of an electric guitar filled the air.

Rhodey dropped his head as he recognised the chords, and he chuckled. By the time the vocalist finished singing, "_He was turned to steel / in the great magnetic field / where he traveled time / for the future of mankind,_" he already had Loki's phone in his hand.

Sure enough, there it was on the screen: a very flattering picture of Tony's jean-clad ass — Rhodey could recognize that ass anywhere no matter what it was wearing (don't ask) — clearly taken by Tony himself, and the name "God of Sex" underneath in the caller ID, instead of Tony's name.

He tried not to let his amusement show too much in his voice as he answered, "Hi, Tony. Though, for the record, you should be the god of bad decisions, not sex."

Tony let out a relieved breath. Well, it wasn't Loki, but for some reason Tony had half-expected to hear some overwhelming, Cthulhu-esque voice gurgling on the other line, boasting about how he had taken down the king piece on their chessboard. "Loki's in a coma," was the first thing to leave his mouth, followed by, "Also, I make… good decisions too, hey."

Knowing Tony would carry on talking if allowed, Rhodey interrupted to give him the important news. "Very seldom. And we know. Apparently, this Thanos guy stole Loki's soul."

Right. Tony clenched his fist, the metal of the gauntlet screaming angrily. "So, what's up? What's happening down on the ground right now?" Without waiting for an answer, he reciprocated with his own plans. "Hey, I'm heading over to Fury right now. He already knows about Loki's condition," he informed, clearly not having known of Rhodes' exchange with the spy just prior to his call. "Gonna go talk to an 'expert'."

Tony was clocking at around 768 miles per hour above the Mediterranean sea, having had to drop fixing the Frannies lower on his priority list. Loki came first. He loved him, damnit, and the world _needed_ him right about now.

"I'll find him, Rhodey, don't worry. I'll find him."

Rhodey rolled his eyes, used to Tony's motormouth when he was nervous about something or high on coffee — high on _anything_, really, but that was way back when. "Of course you will," he reassured, saying it with the surety an engineer has when speaking about laws of physics. "But," he sighed, "remember not to lose yourself in the search, okay?" He normally wasn't so, erm, _heartfelt _with Tony, but, with Loki gone, they needed Tony desperately.

* * *

If Tony Stark had been a little better at listening, he might've taken Rhodey's advice and he wouldn't be sitting here in one of SHIELD's meeting rooms, discussing astral projection with Fury's top magic monkey.

He wasn't the best at playing well with others, and while he had never really had reason to contact the one Doctor Stephen Strange before, he already knew the guy was a few screws loose in the head and that getting along would be an interesting feat. Regardless, this was the only way he could think of to save Loki, and this was going _far_ outside of his realm of expertise. It was uncomfortable to say the least.

"It's not often one sees a man of science revert to the ways of the arcane," Dr. Strange said with little true amusement in his voice, sitting across from Tony _without a chair._ The cloaked man had his legs crossed Indian-style, hovering at the other end of the table.

Tony was trying desperately to think of something witty to say about the phenomenon, but with his mind in several different places all relating to his worry over Loki, he couldn't for the life of him come up with anything close to acceptable. No quips, huh? That was definitely a bad sign for the billionaire. He just couldn't help thinking what kind of tortures Loki might be going through right now.

Hell, if it dealt with _magic, _the torments Loki endured were probably unfathomable.

"From what I heard, that's sort of what you did," Tony grunted at the retired surgeon-gone-magician. He needed to concentrate on the here and now. "Yeah. Did some homework while I was flying over from Africa. Anyway. So Thanos has his—"

"Shh! Speak not his name while we are here, Anthony," Strange pressed a gloved finger to his lips, looking around the room, at Fury, at Stark, at the guards beyond the walls. He was watching them, taking great precaution should their eyes and ears not be their own.

Tony could already feel his short fuse lighting itself. "Okaaaay. So the _Flying Purple People Eater_ stole Loki's consciousness?" Stark corrected himself. "We're dealing with mind play?"

"Simply put, yes," the Sorcerer Supreme nodded sagely. If Tony's sarcasm got under his skin, it didn't show. "If I can find traces of Loki's energies along the path he was taken, I may be able to find where his consciousness lies now." His normally placid expression turned dour. "If his existence has been snuffed out, I am afraid there is not much more I can help you with beyond the war that will wage here. If the dark one can summon another's spiritual body to him at a whim, I doubt that I alone would be able to combat him."

Tony's shoulders slumped. He didn't want to think of Loki—_no._ "He's not dead." The man grit his teeth. "Not yet, I just know it. So don't even consider that option. Just tell me how the hell to get to him already!" He slammed a fist down onto the table, splintering it thanks to the gauntlet.

Strange paid the temper tantrum no mind.

_Zen little fucker,_ ran through Tony's thoughts.

"Be patient, Anthony. I will cast myself out to find him. Do you know whether or not he carries something of you with him? It would narrow my search, if there is a thread that I might follow."

With a look from Fury, Tony blew air from his nose and sat down again begrudgingly. _Okay concentrate, Tony._ The man tipped his head up and to the left in thought, tapping his chin. "Uhm. Something of me?" His eyes widened. "Ohhh. Well. We did sort of _have fun_ over the presidential desk. Shh, kind of our little secret," the playboy couldn't help but wink.

Behind him, Fury's one good eye twitched. Even Dr. Strange's countenance broke, making a face.

"No, that is no good," Dr. Strange said, pushing his mouth to the side in thought. "That is in the realm of the physical, and I meant the astral realm..." he trailed off, his brow scrunching delicately in thought. He tapped his chin and stroked his beard, muttering to himself. "...I suppose... But no—or yes?" One of his eyebrows quirked up and he looked Tony up and down. "...If there was enough feeling," he concluded, "there may have been a small soul exchange."

Tony just quirked a brow. "Yeaaaah, no. You lost me at 'no good'. What the hell does that even mean, Strange?" he asked, not really in the mood to try and decipher all this voodoo talk.

Fury looked equally curious, but he was less impertinent about it.

Dr. Strange explained. "Souls are not finite. They are generated continuously because they are by nature volatile." He waited for some sign of understanding or recognition, and saw none. He sighed. "The phrase '_to put your soul into something_' happens to be quite literal. If your and Loki's," he hesitated, looking for a delicate word, and floundered, "..._fun_ held meaning to both of you, then it is very possible that, at this moment, he is carrying a piece of your soul attached to his own, the same way you are carrying his."

While Tony didn't really believe in the idea of 'souls', he did have to say it was a bit hard not to with all this talk. And the idea of not only being physically connected to his lover, but _spiritually_ also, actually warmed Tony unlike anything he'd felt before.

Which only drove home the knife in his heart. He had to find Loki. Or rather, rescue him, get him back. If Tony had a thread tied to his lost god, then, by all the things unholy, he was going to either pull on it or follow it wherever it lead him, no matter what happened in the end.

Only Tony's pride kept him from breaking down right then and there, the man looking to Dr. Strange with every ounce of hope he still had. "So you're saying we can find him if... what. If I _loved_ him?" He blinked at the sorcerer with some surprise. It had become easier to admit each time, only further solidifying the truth of it. "Of course I did then, and I still do. Will that work? Can we find him then? Come on, you're killing me here," he said with urgency, practically sitting at the edge of his seat.

Fury looked extremely interested in this new development. "You _love_ him?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. As far as he was concerned, Stark's 'love' for Loki was as real and meaningful as a teenager's first relationship.

"Of _course_ I love him. What can I say? The damn god knew the quickest way to a man's heart. He had me at 'homemade chicken alfredo'," Tony said with a snarky grin.

Strange shot them both an unamused look, shutting them up, before turning to Tony. "We can find him," he confirmed, a corner of his mouth twitching up slightly, "with this." He made a gesture, and a rolled-up sock — very smelly — appeared in his hand. "I usually keep this under heavy wards in my closet," he explained as he unrolled the sock. "The sock is as much a deterrent as the wards themselves, for who would think such a treasure," he upended the sock, letting a green, oblong stone fall onto his waiting hand, "would be buried in this?" He waved the sock around, smiling widely at them like a magician having just explained his best trick and expecting applause.

"Yeah, I'll say." Tony waved a hand before his face rather than give the awaited applause. Nose wrinkling, he leaned away to gaze at the gem from a safer distance. "Okay, glowy gem of ancient power. I'm digging that. So how do you use it? Do I have to do anything?" The scientist of the group lacked the proper amazement that came with the identification of the gem. To him, it was a shiny rock, a source of energy and a means to find his stolen god.

Dr. Strange made a prissy moue of disappointment, but he got on with the program easily enough. "This, Stark, is a magical device that allows me mastery over souls and soul magic." He waited until that sunk in. "So, here is the plan..."

* * *

Bruce was in Tony's lab when Steve walked in, carrying dinner on a tray and a frown on his face. The lab seemed empty without Tony, but it still felt more like home to Bruce than any other place in the tower. "Oh, no," he said upon seeing Steve. "I don't like that look."

Steve sighed, using the tray to push around random debris from the table to make room before setting it down. "Bad news," he announced, taking a seat on a stool next to Bruce. "We lost Loki."

Bruce's brow wrinkled. "By 'lost', you mean...?" he prompted, not wanting to jump to conclusions quite yet, lest he become green around the edges.

Looking down, Steve played with a fry from Bruce's plate. "Captured. Or something similar." He chanced a look at Bruce and saw the green glint in his eyes. If he were prone to cursing, he could be doing it now, no doubt. "Out of commission in all the ways that matter," he finished, and ate the fry.

The scientist clenched his fists and breathed deeply to stave off the Other Guy. He wasn't needed here. "I see." Asking how on Earth _Loki_ was out of commission would be useless — if they had taken Loki or taken him _out_, it was likely out of Bruce's league completely.

Steve, lost in thought too, stole another fry.

Bruce smacked his hand away and grabbed the plate. If Loki was — if something had happened to Loki, Tony was probably all over it like white on rice trying to solve it. Which meant that he wasn't doing _his_ job. Now, _that_ Bruce could help with. He looked around, watching the mass of suits lining the walls, and recalled something Tony had told him. "Jarvis, can you control the suits?" he asked.

"I can, Dr. Banner," Jarvis replied simply.

Steve was puzzled, as he had no idea where Bruce was going with this, but he didn't say anything. His timidity may or may not have been also related to the fact that he still didn't quite _get _Jarvis.

Bruce's smile was surprisingly dark on his unshaven face. "I assume you have the Framrherrlae schematics somewhere in your memory?" he asked leadingly, taking a fry and biting into it.

"Of course, Dr. Banner," Jarvis answered, and there was something like relief in his mechanical voice, as if he had been wanting to do exactly what Bruce was about to ask him to do, only he needed permission. Or possibly just someone to enable him.

Luckily, Bruce was an enabler. So it was no skin off his nose to order Jarvis. "Then please activate the suits and use them to finish building the incomplete Frannies world-wide."

Roger that, Sir," Jarvis replied, and was that vindictiveness in his voice module?

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 2nd of September**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_YOU ADDRESS OMNIPOTENCE, TONY STARK, Thanos said. TREAD CAREFULLY._

* * *

**End notes:**

Notes, notes, so many notes. Where to begin?

Okay. I won't update on thursday because, as I told you the last chapter, my partner and I still haven't written the continuation after ch. 34. So either we manage to sit down and do it, or I'll sit down and do it myself. If any of these happen, I'll update on thursday instead of monday.

Second! My little plagiarisms:

1) Thanos speaking in all caps is a shout-out to Terry Prattchet's Death. Why doesn't Thanos speak normally? Who knows. I had to figure out a way to convey his weird squiggly speech bubbles.

2) The thing about souls and Names are what stayed with me from reading The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher (VERY RECOMMENDED). I also copied some lines straight because book three happens to feature an immortal being (a dragon) flattening the protagonist with his will alone, and it was PERFECT.

Hope you enjoyed!

(Did anyone watch the video I liked last chapter?)

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	32. Invasion (Part One)

**Chapter Title: **Invasion (Part One)

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length:** 5.5k/170k-ish

**Chapter Warnings: **none.

**Chapter Summary: **Tony finds Thanos — or rather, Thanos find_ him._

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

While the suits shipped out to finish fixing the Framrherrlae worldwide and every person with access to the internet or a TV panicked at the news about Loki, Fury presented himself to the slightly unnerved members of Loki's 'dream team'. Or the few that hadn't yet evacuated, at least.

Loki's secretary, a man called Saunders, helped smooth things along, which was fortunate because Fury, his face still pockmarked with burns, was not in a very patient mood.

All of them except for Fury decided that the UN should know about the development, and that they should hold a press conference telling the world what was up with Loki, and that, no, he hadn't deserted them. Fury had to deal, because otherwise, they said, they would decide the new leader among themselves, SHIELD or no SHIELD.

Fury dealt, though he decreed that someone other than him should be announced as leader, even though they would be a figurehead. He didn't want people knowing just how deeply his fingers were buried, or in how many pies.

They decided on Colonel Rhodes for that role.

* * *

Strange had done it. _Strange had done it!_

"Huh. I guess magic does have its upside," Tony mused to himself, already careening through the sea of black, stars bright in the far distance.

Somehow, Dr. Strange had been able to pinpoint Loki's location through his own astral projection. The affair had been as his namesake: _strange._ It reminded Tony of those fake séances, the billionaire forced to sit and keep quiet while Stephen's body simply went numb and limp. It was actually sort of terrifying, considering he somehow could just _feel_ that Strange was gone. Completely _gone._

Lights were on, but nobody was home.

He didn't want to imagine what Loki looked like, devoid of all life, of all evidence that he had ever been conscious.

The thought only spurred him on, Tony easily breaking the world's record for fastest aerial speed as he made his way through the stars. He was probably breaking more records than he could count right now. It was too bad he didn't care one lick at the moment; it would've been more to gloat about.

On second thought, Tony Stark didn't need that.

It was as he was flying that Jarvis thought to enlighten him on the current events happening back at home base. Seems like Rhodes was taking charge ("Good 'ol Rhodey," Tony thought fondly) in Loki's stead, and Bruce had proven himself more of a genius, getting the other Marks 39's to go and his job for him.

Damn, why hadn't Tony thought of that?

He blamed Loki.

"Destination closing in, sir," the AI warned, and it was only when Tony flew past the expanse of the Moon that he saw them.

Ships. Space whales, a lot of them. By the sight of them, Tony had to wonder if they'd done any damage at all with the previous round of nukes. The dark, jagged shapes silhouetted against the Moon caused a shiver down his spine. It wasn't enough to stop him however.

"Alright, let's hope Strange's little cloak works," Tony swallowed, heading for the largest of the fleet.

Just prior to his departure, the Sorcerer Supreme had left him a parting gift; a spell meant to cloak him from sight and detection. As long as he remained out of direct sight, he would be fine. At least, that's what Strange had said. Stark had wanted to remain skeptical, but at this point, he needed all the help he could get, whether or not it was true. For once in his life, the scientist didn't want to test it.

The suit stabilized his approach towards the impressive command ship. "Find me an entrance, Jarv," he whispered, knowing it wasn't necessary. Just as quickly, the AI ran a few scans of the ship and directed the hero towards a docking bay.

Tony couldn't help but feel like he was in a Star Wars movie right about now.

The entrance proved to be more of an aperture than anything; almost organic, fleshy. It looked like an amalgamation of stretched membrane and metallic carapace, and just as Tony was figuratively scratching his head to find a way in, it opened for him. The 'door' pulled apart, Tony watching with disgusted fascination — he was going to be a bit immature and refer to it as the biggest asshole he'd ever seen in his life — as another one of the comparatively smaller cetacean things spat itself out into space, complete with bits of slime and viscera and all.

It was almost as if the damn ship had given birth.

"That. I never want to see again. In my life. Ever," he told Jarvis, before he realized that was his way in. Having ducked just out of sight, Tony maneuvered himself closer to the '_space whale anus_' and waited it out. He could see the stars reflected in the obsidian shell of the ship, but thankfully not the Mark 39. The billionaire had no idea what the true limitations of his invisibility were but he could only hope this worked.

Otherwise — yeah, no. He didn't really want to think about it.

More movement came finally, and Tony readied himself.

A second creature pushed its way through, giving a cry that made absolutely no sound, rushing past him without sparing the tiny human a glance.

Tony watched as it passed, and he was sure he could see the beast's underside squirming with Chitauri.

The aperture began to close, folds of flesh contracting again.

With haste, Tony shot forward and slipped through, before landing in what truly mimicked that of a ship's docking bay. Only fleshier and definitely more alien. Tony began to make his way along the walls, keeping from the sight of a few Chitauri that moved about the large area (though they appeared to busy themselves with tending to the whale beasts). Feeling as though he was sneaking through some Giger-esque nightmare, Stark moved.

All Jarvis could do was direct him towards an accessway to a higher level on the ship. The rest was all up to dumb luck.

Tony Stark was going in blind.

* * *

Back on Earth, Steve was being filled in on the new situation.

The shelters people had been taken to had, among such amenities as bedrolls, latrines and rations, _wifi_. Or rather, people with smartphones were sharing their connection by becoming wifi hotspots. (They were generally being lauded as heroes by people who had been separated and gone into different shelters, which may or may not have been their reason for doing it in the first place.)

Thanks to this, and to the few brave reporters who had stayed on the surface, news spread pretty fast.

Nearly everyone knew Loki had stepped down, although they didn't know why.

It was a_ nightmare_.

Some people explained it as Loki just being himself. Apparently, having a Norse god as their lord and master had inspired a number of people to find religion, and they had, of course, researched the myths. Loki was infamous for being a coward — so much of one that he preferred to use his wit to his brawn. They appreciated that about him, his cleverness, but they had been expecting Loki to jump ship ever since he told them how bad things were.

Others weren't nearly so kind. They said he had done everything on purpose. That he had lied to get everyone to follow him without question, to get them all neatly packed into underground bunkers to control them more easily. That he was still working to conquer Earth for his master, and since the first invasion hadn't worked out, he had decided to be clever about it and trick them into handing over their planet.

A third group took both arguments and mashed them into a paranoia that Loki had simply lied about _everything._ They thought Loki had tricked them into piling into bunkers only to kill them en masse, that there was no Evil Overlord above Loki. They wanted to get out, since they didn't believe in the so-called "Alien Threat", saying it was a hoax. When the armed forces had prevented them from leaving, they took it as proof that Loki had a bigger plan, and that it was a huge conspiracy.

And then Tony Stark went AWOL.

Thanks to the internet available, but also in part to the fact that there was no TV to numb them, the theories had spread like wildfire all over the globe. The mindless masses believed them, and they started panicking, trying to leave the complexes as well, turning to violence when denied.

If the armed forces world-wide attempted to repress them, it would be a _massacre_.

And so Fury had appealed to Steve. Or rather, to Captain America, both a symbol of the fight for freedom and the childhood hero of nearly half the population.

Steve had no idea what to do. What he _could_ do.

However, Maria Hill had other ideas. She had planted him behind a desk, wearing his uniform, explained what was going on, given him a set of prompt cards, and pointed a camera at him. Then she had told him to do what he did best: wing it.

He will readily admit that he panicked at the idea of the fate of all humans _literally_ resting on his speech-making abilities. He panicked so hard he thought, for a moment, that he was having an asthma attack.

Thankfully, Widow was there, and she coached him out of it more gently than he would have expected of a woman like her, so hard and full of edges.

Once he had calmed down enough, Steve sat down and gave the best speech of his life, touching upon the spirit of comradeship, on wars and losses and how Loki was doing his best to prevent any, on how much he personally trusted Loki, on how Loki had _not _abandoned anyone, but how he was in a coma instead, his soul having been stolen by this Thanos person.

None of it worked.

Then Bruce Banner had an unexpected stroke of genius. He got Barton, who was still at the hospital guarding Loki, to take a picture of the comatose god and send it to him. Then, with help of Jarvis, he uploaded it to Tony's twitter, confident many people would see it, and added the words, "Avengers speaking. Loki needs you, stop fighting."

It worked like a charm, calming the waters enough to contain the riots.

For now at least.

* * *

Tony didn't know what was more horrifying: the way the whales were moved through large, birthing tubes of flesh or how swarms of Chitauri soldiers curled up and fused themselves to compartments on the carrier's undersides via what looked like a prehensile umbilical cord. All he knew was that he was definitely_ not_ interested in even one of Loki's wonderful home-cooked meals right now (…maybe later).

The AI skillfully pointed out a series of stair wells that wound upward, having made it past the busy grey aliens with little incident.

Feeling odd taking the blackened, shimmering steps in his Iron Man suit (he should have been flying through all of this repulsors blazing), the Avenger reached the top that lead him to hallways that looked just as dark and convoluted as a mole's den, twisting away in every direction. He sighed and had to hang on to the hope that he would at least find some sort of clue as to where the hell he was going.

All he knew was that he had to keep moving.

Tony chose a ridged hallway (the walls reminded him of sections of spinal column) and rounded a corner—

"Fuck!"

—only to slip back against a wall as a pair of Chitauri chattered loudly amongst themselves.

Their language was horrible and hard on the ears, a series of clicks and chitters, screeches and sounds that had Tony gritting his teeth together.

"Audio reception, offline," he whispered, and with a wave of relief, all sound cut from outside off. Only the sound of his breath in the helmet reached his ears, but his interface kept him well informed as to the whereabouts of the ugly bugs just beyond sight. "Guess I'm not going that way."

Playing the Darth Vader theme in his head to keep himself sane, Tony turned and decided for another equally ominous hallway, following only where his feet were taking him. Sound returned to him when he took another set of stairs, this one lit by bioluminescent lights just beneath each step. They looked important, at the very least, seeing as they stretched up for forever and a day.

He found himself on another floor, similar to the one below. Only, there was an immense set of jagged carapace-like doors, toothy. They reminded him of lobster claws and toothy insectile maws. "Scary as shit? Check," he murmured to himself, seeing as there was no one else around. "It's gotta be important. QED."

Well, time to play the waiting game again. There was no way he was going to blow his cover through a failed explosive attempt, even if this suit was equipped with the miniature Framrherrlae technology. He was confident he could make a hole enough to fit him and then some, but he knew it would get him nowhere if he were caught.

Hell, if the guy could rip the consciousness right out of Loki, imagine what he could do to a human in a tin can.

As much as he hated to downplay himself, Tony was realistic enough to realize he would be in deep shit if this all didn't work out. As a counterbalance, of course, his ego spurred him on with the conviction that he _wouldn't _get caught and he _would_ save Loki. Easy peasy.

His waiting paid off as the series of doors peeled open like a set of armored mandibles, making way for a cowled figure Tony did not recognize.

The beast stood taller than Tony himself, draped in dark robes. He heard the ugly thing muttering to itself in a voice that was made of rough sandpaper, and he caught a glimpse of golden mesh or wiring over its face, mouth an ugly wet crimson and full of shark teeth.

The human shivered and said nothing while the creature passed, seemingly lost in its own mutterings. Pushing the thought of it aside, Tony hoofed it over to the doors just as they were closing (a little too close for comfort). And then he found himself staring up and around a space larger than he could fathom.

He was sure the entire room was at least a football stadium in length, made entirely of the same chitinous obsidian as the outer shells of the ship. The furthest wall was curved and bare, made of something more organic than glass; he could see the entire expanse of the war fleet at this craft's command, the Moon, and just beyond, the Earth. _Home_. The four arms of the ship stretched out, as if offering a deadly embrace to the prize just out of reach.

Tony swallowed thickly, focusing on the large throne in the center of the space, turned away from him and towards the huge ass window. That was good. He really, _really_ didn't need the figure seated in it to welcome him in. Feeling like a flea in a house of giants, Stark kept to the walls as his plan since the beginning, moving into the grand space and peering for anything among the odd devices and architecture that looked remotely like it could hold a god's consciousness captive. 'Sure, no problem. A walk in the park,' he told himself with not a little bit of sarcasm.

AH, ANTHONY STARK, a voice rang over the room, I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO MEET YOU.

The voice came from the huge-ass throne sitting in the middle of the room.

If Tony had ever felt like pissing his suit before, this was it (drunken bouts didn't count). The tiny, pea-sized mortal froze in mid step, like a deer caught in the headlights even if Thanos hadn't turned to look at him. Taking a deep breath and ignoring how his balls felt like they had shriveled to .01 percent of their original size, Tony let himself relax and turn on a heel to stare at the immense throne.

"Uh. Hi there. I was looking for the men's room but I think I took a wrong turn." He managed to keep the tremor from his voice. Acting under great duress was one of the things he did best. "Unless you're keeping a hidden urinal around here somewhere," Tony added, making the effort of moving his gaze around the room like he just might find one. "Or, you know, a 'porcelain throne'. I'm not picky."

YOU ADDRESS OMNIPOTENCE, TONY STARK, the voice said. TREAD CAREFULLY.

The guy that voice belonged to (if the word _guy_ could be applied to the massive purple _giant_ dressed in gold sitting on the throne) looked unamused. Then again, that might have just been its natural expression — the lower half of its face was terribly deformed, and it seemed to have a row of chins all along his jaw.

Holy shit. Tony had totally gotten the 'flying purple people eater' thing _right._ Strange would be laughing his ass off right now (or maybe not, the guy was probably used to weird things like this.)

Then the lightning in the giant's eyes diminished, and it said, COME, MAN OF IRON, gesturing magnanimously to the place in front of him. I HAVE HEARD MUCH ABOUT YOU. It grinned, revealing two lines of pearly teeth, all shaped like molars as if made to crush everything in their path.

Seeing the gesture for him to come made the man's skin crawl with ice. He entertained the idea of simply disobeying for all of about a second before he made the (hopefully) right choice and moved casually over to the throne. For once in his life, he hadn't chosen the recklessly dangerous option. Maybe.

"So you _have_ heard of me, huh? Not sure how I feel being the first intergalactically famous guy around," he grinned, doing his best to keep his legs from collapsing. He was so close. _This_ close to finding and rescuing Loki, he just had to figure out where the hell the Jolly Purple Giant was keeping his god.

If he could get it from Thanos's mouth, that'd be great.

Tony Stark wasn't exactly one for kneeling so he just stood there before the seated alien overlord, clad entirely in his armor and the cloaking spell that had failed him _miserably._ "So, what've you heard, huh? People talking shit about me?" he chuckled, though in his mind it felt and sounded fake.

Thanos regarded him silently, his face expressionless and unchanging. MY PERUSAL OF MY SERVANT'S MIND HAS BEEN MOST INFORMATIVE, he said at last, his red eyes flashing. His right hand fidgeted, seemingly some kind of nervous tic.

"Servant? You mean, the Chitauri?" Tony blinked before his mind put together the pieces.

Loki. He was talking about _Loki._

At the mention of his lover, Tony's face fell and he was glad for the helmet, hiding the desperate concern in his eyes. He didn't dare think to raise it, even if Jarvis was constantly reminding him just how much he shouldn't be here, standing before this guy.

While he stood here calmly bantering with the alien, the AI had been running full specs on whom he presumed was Thanos, judging by the throne and the cocky, familiar attitude he attributed to all megalomaniacs. And the warning bells continued to ring on his HUD, Tony having to ignore them every single time. The readings were _off the charts_, unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

'_He's over 9000!' _Tony might have laughed, if he wasn't busy trying not to die _and_ rescue his dictator in distress.

WOULD YOU CARE FOR A DRINK? The creature grinned cruelly. MAYHAPS SOME HOT TEA? YOU LOOK AS IF YOU ARE IN NEED OF SOME.

"Tea? You're too kind. Sorry though, I'm more of a scotch kind of guy," Tony chuckled, seeing the irony in it all. Hadn't he offered Loki a drink once upon a time? "Unless it's drugged, then I prefer water."

SUCH IMPUDENCE WILL BRING YOU ONLY DEATH, MORTAL, Thanos reminded him affably. The corners of his eyes, almost hidden under the golden helmet, crinkled up. His right hand twitched some more, the fingers tapping on the armrest of the throne. It seemed Tony had got under his skin already. BUT I SUPPOSE I CANNOT EXPECT AN UNEVOLVED MONKEY LIKE YOURSELF TO POSSES KNOWLEDGE OF THE INTERGALACTIC LAWS OF HOSPITALITY. He looked smug.

"Yeowch. Rude," Tony scoffed playfully, eyes drawn every so often to the nervous tic. "We're not _completely_ unevolved." '_No nicknames, _do not_ for the love of Loki give this guy a nickname,_' Tony warned himself. He was likely getting on the other's nerves by now, and Tony had to wonder just when the other would simply snap and somehow eviscerate him where he stood.

BUT WE DIGRESS. COME, TONY STARK, SIT BY ME, Thanos gestured at the floor next to himself, as if he expected Tony to kneel there. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU. He lifted his hand at the blank wall sitting before the throne and made a shooing motion, his other hand twitching angrily on the chair.

Outside the enormous mothership, a swarm of Leviathans began forming into position, their dark forms silhouetted against the huge, half blue-and-white, half-dark form of planet Earth. There were so many of them that Earth could barely be seen — possibly more space whales than humans lived in New York, all assembling into formation, ready to charge against Tony's home.

Thanos grinned, pleased, and his right hand did a jaunty little tap-dance on the armrest. He turned to Tony. ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF, EARTH-MAN? DOES IT NOT AMUSE YOU HOW _PUNY_ YOUR POWER IS, COMPARED TO THAT OF MY ARMY?

Strangely enough, this wasn't exactly how Tony had imagined everything playing out, what with Thanos offering him to sit and all. It all seemed so polite, so civil (which he supposed some villains had a flair for), and, honestly, he'd expected much more of a firefight with this one. Maybe it was best it was all playing out his way. He was buying himself time; maybe Loki too, if the overlord's attention was being wrested from… whatever he had been doing to the captured god's consciousness.

Tony wasn't about to deny Thanos as he moved over beside the throne; he did choose to remain standing, however, arms crossed as he watched put the window-wall, seeing the vast numbers of alien vessels heading for the planet he called home. Like this, it all seemed so small, and for the briefest moment, his will nearly caved at the question as to why he was even _trying_.

Of course, that lasted for about a second before Tony was convinced that they could still beat this guy into a pulp because one, he was Tony Stark, and two, Thanos should see Loki when he was angry.

"'Amused' isn't the first word that comes to mind, but sure. Whatever you say," Tony huffed, hoping beyond all hope that Bruce had managed to scrape together all of the Framrherrlae in time. They weren't that far from Earth at all by now, he'd give them about an hour before his weaponized satellites started kicking in.

Thanos grinned. AH, BUT I FIND IT UTTERLY MESMERISING, he said, his voice taking on a wistful tone. A GIFT FOR MY BELOVED, THAT MAY SHE TURN HER MAJESTIC VISAGE IN MY DIRECTION ONCE AGAIN. He turned to Tony, watching him out the corner of his eyes.

Tony quirked a brow at that. "Beloved?" Thanos didn't really strike Tony as a lady's man, but hey, whatever floated his boat. Spaceship. Whatever. Maybe space chicks had a thing for quadruple chins? "What are you talking about? Please don't tell me you're using the destruction of my planet as a wedding ring. That's just... wrong."

Of course, maybe he could get Thanos talking and somehow Loki's whereabouts would slip out. He'd be lucky as hell, but it was worth a shot. At least, if anything, he hoped he was gaining his lover a few moments of rest — he refused to believe Loki was dead, and Thanos hadn't exactly confirmed it either. Maybe Loki could manage to escape even, though that was highly unlikely as well. At least the overlord didn't seem too keen on killing Tony just yet; that was always a bonus.

Thanos grinned briefly, and then his expression turned contemplative. YOU SAY SO BECAUSE YOU DO NOT KNOW MY BELOVED, he said wistfully, as if merely the mention of her was enough to bring him happiness. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, I FIRST MET HER AFTER I HAD BEEN CAST AWAY BY MY PEOPLE.

Tony felt like sitting, but his pride still got the better of him. He was in for a story, he could tell, but if anything would prove useful to him, perhaps it would be through this. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Tony tipped his head. "Cast away? Why?" Might as well let him talk.

AH, I SHALL EXPLAIN, THEN. ON SATURN'S MOON OF TITAN LIVED A COLONY OF ETERNALS. AS YOU SEE, I WAS BORN MISSHAPEN AND MONSTROUS, ESPECIALLY IN COMPARISON TO THE OTHER ETERNALS AND MY HANDSOME BROTHER. Thanos gritted his teeth, one hand clenching at the remembered injustice, the other twitching madly as if wanting to grasp something and kill it.

"There's life? On Saturn's moon?" Tony blinked. Space programs had found no evidence of life in the Sol system, outside of course Earth. Maybe they either hadn't looked hard enough or they were covering things up. Whatever the case, maybe they could have avoided this mess altogether if they had known. "Also what are Eternals?"

Thanos continued, either not noticing Tony's words or purposely ignoring them. WHAT I LACKED IN BEAUTY, HOWEVER, I MADE UP FOR IN CLEVERNESS AND POWER. I BECAME MORE POWERFUL THAN ANY OF MY BRETHREN, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, I GREW MELANCHOLIC, CONSUMED WITH THE CONCEPT OF DEATH.

Tony continued to stand there and with a concealed snort, thought, '_Yeah, you and every other emo teen in the galaxy.'_ Hopefully Thanos didn't read minds.

AT SOME POINT, MY COMMUNITY DECIDED I WAS TOO POWERFUL, AND THEY EXILED ME. Thanos let out an angry huff, as if he still hadn't gotten over the fact. THUS I TRAVELLED THE UNIVERSE, GROWING IN BOTH POWER AND INFAMY. I MET DEATH HERSELF IN ONE OF MY TRAVELS. SHE IS SO FULL OF BEAUTY. SHE BRINGS PEACE EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. HER EMBRACE IS LIKE COMING HOME AT LAST. Thanos looked utterly besotted, and he spoke like a man trying to get laid by reciting bad poetry. HER TOUCH, LIKE RESTING AFTER A GRUELLING DAY. ALL I COULD SEE UNDER HER COWL WERE TWO SPOTS OF BLUE, THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EYES, AND MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISTANT STARS.

_'Yep, sounds BEE-YOO-TEEFUL_,' Tony continued on his mental tirade. The thought surprised him though. Death personified... Huh. "Death is a chick?" he muttered out loud, but it was clear Thanos was too wrapped up in his recollections to pay him any mind. This was good. He could use this.

I BECAME INFATUATED. HOW COULD I NOT? Thanos sighed, suddenly turned into a high-schooler in love. I ENDEAVORED TO MAKE MYSELF WORTHY IN ORDER TO EARN HER LOVE IN RETURN. WITH AN ARMY UNDER MY COMMAND, I DESTROYED THE HOME THAT HAD CAST ME AWAY.

_'Sure, that was purely selfless, no revenge there. And not a little over-the-top, not at all.' _Tony was unable to help his rampant thoughts, refusing to be cowed by the idea that this being was much more powerful than himself. '_Most kids just key a car or TP a house, or something.'_

I THEN SOUGHT OUT THE SOUL GEMS, AND FORGED A GAUNTLET TO USE THEM ALL AT ONCE. A smug smirk spread on Thanos's face. I WISHED TO EXTINGUISH HALF OF ALL LIFE IN THE COSMOS IN DEATH'S NAME. THE KING OF ASGARD, BOR, ALONG WITH HIS TWO ELDEST SONS, TOOK AFFRONT TO THAT AND SLAYED ME, TAKING THE GAUNTLET AS A TROPHY. BUT MY LADY DEATH DID NOT WANT ME EITHER, he said woefully, his face the picture of pain and unrequited love, FOR I HAD INSULTED HER, AND I FELL THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE COSMOS. Thanos grew quiet, contemplative, his mouth a frown.

Soul gems. So that's what Strange had used in finding Loki's location. Interesting. "Wow. Hell hath no fury, right?" Tony ventured aloud with a shrug, unable to unsee this as some cosmic soap opera that had played out way before his time. It was actually pretty comical, but he didn't dare laugh. At least, not aloud.

Thanos shook himself out of his stupor. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE THE HORRORS THAT LIVE THERE, OUTSIDE THE UNIVERSE. A DRAGON THAT EATS AT THE EDGE OF EVERYTHING, DESTROYING EVERYTHING IN ITS WAY. A SERPENT WHOSE HEADS CONSTANTLY INTERTWINE WITHOUT BEGINNING OR END. A BEAST OF EYES WHO SHATTERS THE MINDS OF OTHERS FOR PLAY, PULLS APART ITS VICTIMS ONE THREAD OF SANITY AT A TIME. A CREATURE WHO SPITS OUT OFFSPRING TO CONSUME THE FLESH OF OTHERS, ONLY TO CONSUME THE BLOATED CHILDREN AND BEGIN AGAIN EVERY FORTNIGHT. Thanos shuddered slightly. I LIVED THERE FOR EONS, THRIVING AMONG THE MONSTERS, NEWLY MAKING A NAME FOR MYSELF. I NEVER LOST SIGHT OF MY GOAL TO WOO MY LADY, AND I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD THAT ENDING ALL LIFE WOULD SIMPLY RENDER HER PURPOSELESS, INEXISTENT. THEREFORE I DECIDED THAT IT WAS NOT THE NUMBER OF DEATHS THAT MATTERED, BUT THE QUALITY.

While the poor lovesick puppy spoke of his plight in the darkness beyond space, Tony thought back on Loki and his own description of wandering the universe, lost. His heart didn't nearly reach as far out to Thanos however, but he did wonder if the experience was similar (mental note: Ask Loki). "Ah, torture for your girlfriend. That's... romantic," he made a face. "Some people just, I dunno, buy flowers and chocolates. Sing a song, write a poem..."

I SET MY SIGHTS ON ASGARD ITSELF, Thanos continued, looking gleeful. THE SELF-PROCLAIMED PROTECTORS OF THE NINE REALMS, YES, he mocked them. AND THEN LOKI, SON OF ODIN, CAST AWAY BY HIS PEOPLE JUST AS I WAS, LANDED AMONGST MY ARMY. He chuckled evilly. HE WISHED TO MAKE A NAME FOR HIMSELF, AWAY FROM THE SHADOW CAST BY HIS FATHER AND BROTHER, AND I WISHED TO DESTROY THEM.

That was when Tony's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply.

HE AND I MADE A PACT, Thanos carried on, MY ARMY AND YOUR PUNY PLANET FOR THE TESSERACT, WHICH WOULD ENABLE MY TRAVEL TO ASGARD THAT I MAY RECOVER THE GAUNTLET AND SLAY THEM ALL. He chuckled darkly. LOKI LOVED THE IDEA.

It was suddenly made quite apparent just how far Tony had fallen for the god... and just how _blind_ he might have been. He remembered his own truce with Loki, having literally handed over his allegiance in order to save the world conveniently on the cusp of danger.

Had he been played all along? Could it be that Loki had been working behind their backs all along? Had the god been working towards revenge the whole time?

Oh, no. _Stop, stop, stop, Tony. Bad tangent._

But he couldn't stop. Loki's hatred for his family, the want to strike back against whatever they'd done to him; _that_, at least, was true. Tony had no idea if the myths were true, but if they were... And he knew for certain that Loki had been bullied — or had that been just another lie to gain his sympathy?

His blood was running cold. Tony Stark had never done this for anyone, had never gone this far for someone; to stand here under the shadow of an evil space overlord at the brink of his homeworld's termination? The thought burned him that maybe he had been played, that he was still being played, his pride a terrible thing to combat.

A fist clenched, the sound of metal segments scraping against one another barely heard in the expansive throne room. He didn't want to believe that he was just a pawn in an elaborate chess game, he couldn't bear to think that way. He warred with himself that this all wasn't true, making excuses for Loki. Then he remembered how Loki had made Jane Foster build a portal to Asgard. A portal _fuelled by the Tesseract._

Thanos, apparently seeing his thoughts, grinned widely. IT IS A BEAUTIFUL THING, IS IT NOT, TO WATCH EVERYTHING YOU ONCE HELD DEAR CRUMBLE APART AND BE DELETED FROM EXISTENCE? I DO THINK I SHALL ALLOW YOU TO EXPERIENCE IT FULLY, AS A REWARD FOR ANNIHILATING MY ARMY. His hands tightened on the armrests, the left one twitching madly. YOU NEED NOT FEAR ME. YOU ARE HERE WITH MY SERVANT, LOKI, AND THE CHARITY I AFFORD HIM EXTENDS TO YOU.

"How thoughtful," Tony murmured coldly, not at all thrilled that Thanos was offering to let him watch the world crumble before him. Like hell he was going to stay around to watch—

Suddenly, lights entwined around Tony, white and purple, sinking into the seams of the suit, wrenching the plates apart, melting them off his body and leaving him utterly defenseless. Before he could react, the lights formed chains around him, weighing him down, forcing him to his knees to watch the spectacle of lights just as Thanos's — _and Loki's?_ — army collided with the satellite defense threshold.

* * *

**T.B.C. on Monday 9th of August**

**Scene from next chapter:**

_The screens stopped showing the live feed. Nick thought she had turned them off, for a second, before his eyes adjusted and he saw that the feed was some telescope's view of a giant-ass spaceship. When his eyes adjusted further, he saw that the spaceship was, for all intents and purposes, shitting another contingent of Leviathans._

_And here Earth was shield-less and lance-less._

_He turned towards Hill._

_"Nukes?" she asked before he could talk._

_Fury nodded. "Nukes," he confirmed. "See if you can use Foster's portal to send them."_

* * *

**End notes:**

SORRY for the whole "Oops, we forgot to carry on writing, no chapter on Thursday" snafu ;_; I hope this chapter makes up for it.

On another note! Next monday is september 9! Which means that, as well as chapter 33 (oops, gotta finish ch. 34 really fast!), you get to know when I'll post (begin posting?) my Frostiron Big Bang fic, The Affairs of Wizards.

The summary of it is as follows:  
_In a world where people with magic are forced to work for the government in what ammounts to basically slavery, Tony Stark, CEO of the world's number one manufacturer of Anti-Psionic technology, gets kidnapped by the group of freedom fighters known as MAGI and held for ransom. It is the start of his unhealthy and convoluted relationship with Loki Olson, Warlock, the very same man who knows exactly which strings to pull to get him dancing to his seditious tune._

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


	33. Invasion (Part Two)

**Chapter Title: **Invasio (part two)

**Chapter Rating**: K.

**Chapter Length:** 7k/170k-ish

**Chapter Summary: **Wherein love conquers everything, for some values of everything. For the other values, it's a combination of wit, preparation and strength that does it.

* * *

**The New Management**

**by Pluma Desatada and DerrDoktor**

* * *

Clint and Natasha were sitting on the roof of one of the numerous SHIELD facilities, about to eat instant cup ramen. (After two days of Loki's and Bruce's cooking, they didn't care for rations anymore, not that instant ramen was much better, but hey, wartime is wartime.) They were long used to waiting before action with each other, and no longer felt the need to fill the silence with smalltalk.

"Okay, so, chicken or beef for you?" Clint asked, holding both cups and presenting them to her.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Both." It was a sad meal for a possibly last meal, so she would take everything she could before the battle for the world began, even if it was something as small as ramen flavors. It was strange, she had never been particularly attached to life before.

Her partner put them both down on the floor between them and scratched the back of his head pensively. "Half and half?" he offered.

She nodded. "That is acceptable," she said, taking the cup with the lighter colored soup. She hesitated to call it _chicken_.

Clint grabbed the other one and started slurping it, making sure to eat exactly half the noodles and drink half the soup. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish Loki was here. At least the food would be awesome," he murmured around a mouthful of noodles.

Dabbing at her mouth daintily with a paper napkin, Natasha nodded. "It really is a pity we had to evacuate the city," she commented, looking up at the flickering stars, visible in the sky over New York for the first time in half a century. "We could have ordered pizza."

The lights were out nearly everywhere in the world where it was night. First, there were no civilians to light the streets for, no families having a late dinner to leave the lights on, no students pulling all-nighters. Secondly, they didn't want to make targets to the invading army, which every observatory in the world had confirmed was close enough to distinguish cities.

The very few lights still on were at hospitals, where the doctors and nurses had refused to leave the patients who needed round-the-clock care, and at military bases like the one they were currently on.

Clint realized he had eaten half the cup. "Switch," he told his fellow assassin.

She made the switch. Her cup was more than half full, but she had always had a small appetite before battle.

There was a flash of light above them, and both looked up, startled, to see the sky fill with a line of shafts of bubblegum-pink light, which caused balls of explosion-orange whenever they hit something.

"The fuck?" Clint asked, narrowing his eyes up at the sky. "Are those Stark's satellites?"

Natasha was equally surprised. She had been expecting hot-rod red at the very least, if not a whole rainbow for Stark to show off with. "Legolas, what do your eyes see?" she asked, ribbing him gently.

Clint snorted. "I'm flattered that you think I can see satellites, Tasha, but I think you might be overestimating my abilities." He looked more intently, nonetheless, and frowned. He went to his standard-issue pack and got out binoculars, which he used to scrutinize the sky. "Shit, shit, shit," he breathed, pointing the things here and there.

Worried, Nathasha copied him, fetching her binoculars and spying up. She saw what Clint had seen immediately.

The stars were flickering alright, but not because of the air quality in New York. There were _things_ up there, moving around, obscuring the stars. One could follow many trails of disappearing stars. There were _so many ships_ up there it made Loki's invasion from three months ago look like friends getting together for dinner. She swallowed thickly and lowered her binoculars. "Look on the bright side," she told Clint. "At least no one can argue any more that Loki was lying about the space army."

* * *

Everything had been going fine after the Avengers and SHIELD had made an effort to try and placate the masses, up until the lights in the sky began.

Steve had been down on the streets again, having left Bruce to his own devices back in Stark Towers while he was checking on the underground bunkers. He and his troops had been making rounds in the streets (it was eerie, seeing a city as big as Manhattan emptied of all life), making sure that everyone had cleared out and that there were no stragglers when the dark sky lit. They were flashes of light, peppering the low thunderclouds like lightning; but they were too often and too quiet to be considered such.

"Whoa!" one of the soldiers cried, everyone ducking a little, as if the fight had already come to them.

Which was exactly what was happening, Steve Rogers realized. And he, Captain America, was useless in this firefight.

They could only assume it was Stark's defenses that were hitting first, the night sky flashing with fireworks.

"That means we're winning, right?" another soldier asked, a young man who'd probably barely even shot his gun once.

Steve quirked his lips. "It's too early to tell, Son. Too early."

They could only hope Tony knew what he was doing. Rhodes too, seeing as Loki was now being considered out of the picture until further notice. That hadn't helped his troops' morale any.

Thankfully at least, everything seemed too far up there to be heard, for it to affect them down here as far as they could see through the thick cloud cover. Every so often a small section of clouds would clear away, and they would see the oddly pink lines of light streaking past like shooting stars. It might have been beautiful if they didn't know what their appearance signaled.

"Come on, let's get back to the bunkers. We're doing no good just stand around gawking," Steve ordered, and the group made a hasty retreat back to one of the garrisons stationed just on the border of Manhattan and the Bronx where their largest body of civilians were currently being sheltered. They passed through the many security checkpoints with Steve hashing out orders concerning the division of supplies and the various breakouts of crime and unrest amongst the civilians.

The Captain was knee-deep in problems, speaking with the head of his security team, when a young girl, a teenager, screamed out, waving her phone. To whom, he wasn't sure.

"They're at the shields!_ Oh my god, they're at the shields!_" she shrieked, and of course the news was spreading like wildfire.

And here Steve was, trying to keep the firefight as hushed as possible.

"You were saying, boss?" the head security man said.

The closest ring of civilians were already starting to wail as well, crowding hastily around the girl to peer at her iPhone and the makeshift video from somewhere else in the world, showing the skies being lit up like fire. Wherever they were, the amateur camera person had a clear view of dark shapes floating through the sky, shrieking and exploding, many shapes dashing themselves against Stark's famed Aegis shields and causing rings of iridescent light to bloom out from the points of impact.

"Here you go, Sir. I don't think we're keeping this on the dl," a female soldier said and held up her own mobile device, finding a similar feed and handing it to the First Avenger.

Steve pulled a hand over his face, feeling absolute dread at his inability to do anything. Or rather, anything drastic. "Alright, listen up, people. We need to get everyone in check," he said, addressing his group of soldiers, "The rest of the fight's out of our hands, so let's do what we can here. Make it count."

* * *

The SHIELD Helicarrier floated in the middle if the Atlantic Ocean, far from land. There were ships around it, further away than could be seen or felt by radar; each of those ships, some belonging to SHIELD, but most not, had a Frannie.

Inside the Helicarrier, Fury sat in his office, rubbing his temples.

Maria Hill poured them both a coffee, adding a medicinal measure of whisky. Anesthetic, really.

Fury nodded thankfully and took the cup, sipping it wordlessly.

In front of them, over two hundred live feeds from various places around the world cycled in groups of ten on the screen. Some, becoming fewer by the second, showed bursts of pink; others, more and more, the ripples of rainbow light from the Aegis repelling _something_. A few more were showing the people in the bunkers, or the soldiers stationed around the world.

Fury looked at the screen, watching it intently with his single eye, expecting something to change soon.

Maria's grip tightened so much around her cup that there was a creaking sound. Or was it the sound the chair made when she leaned forward on her seat? "Director..."

A heavy sigh. "I know." He closed his eye and put the coffee down. "We made a mistake in fighting Loki."

Hill's lips twitched. "That wasn't what I was about to say. We should start firing Stark's space guns."

"Fine." Fury took the remote control in hand and pressed a button.

All the live feeds in the screen froze, flickered, and changed to a sea of little cells, full of grim faces of men and women in uniform.

Fury nodded at them. Then he said, "Begin firing the Farmhurlei, or however the hell it's pronounced."

The men, all leaders of the respective armies, navies and air forces of the one hundred and seventy two countries that had decided to join the effort, saluted and passed along the orders.

* * *

Thanos looked suitably impressed by the show happening on his screen. He didn't seem to care at all that Tony's defenses were annihilating his soldiers like flies at an electrocuter bulb. Instead, he turned to Stark, a gleam of respect in his eyes. I SEE YOU HAVE A FLARE FOR THE DRAMATIC, MAN OF IRON, he said. ARE THOSE WEAPONS OF YOUR OWN DESIGN? As he spoke, his hand did its own decidedly weird thing. A tap, another tap, then nothing. Then a tap, a drum of all fingers, a tap, another tap, nothing again. Then tap, another tap, a drum, nothing.

Tony had a theory it was Thanos's way of keeping control, like a mantra, only with his fingers. Because seriously, no one could be so unmoved by what he was seeing.

"Haha, yeah. Those're mine. They're great, huh?" Tony grinned, decidedly proud at least to see that his boys were tearing up the whale army. At least, the front lines. He was watching the satellites, some of them managing to take down two, maybe three of the beasts before they were crushed in the jaws of others. That was about the average. It wasn't good enough, he didn't have as many satellites in the air as he needed.

He winced every so often when Thanos wasn't watching him, flinching every now and then when one of his satellites went down. Each one was mourned, each one had a heart. He sighed, at least they were doing their purpose. All of his weapons eventually met their untimely end, even his suits.

Wait.

Tap, tap. _Drum_. Tony blinked, looking up at the overlord's right hand. It had been doing that the whole time, but the keen billionaire hadn't noticed a real pattern to it until now.

Morse code? Couldn't be.

Or could it?

Didn't hurt to try to decipher it though.

_I. L. U._

Over and over.

Confused for a moment, Tony tipped his head and considered that perhaps he was simply making something out of nothing. Then he really _thought_ about it and he masked his surprise, turning to the 'window' again. "I think your ass whales are taking kind of a beating out there," he said nonchalantly, just stating a fact rather than gloating about it.

On the inside, he was roiling with emotion. That was Loki. It had to be Loki.

Was Loki just playing him? No. He couldn't be. It was _Thanos_ who had played him, turned him against Loki, by dropping a few choice phrases and letting Tony draw his own conclusions. Tony decided to just go with it, that maybe he himself was just being a paranoid asshole while his lover strove desperately to deliver one simple, goddamn message.

Tony bit his lip and though he was still being held down, he still had his hand on his lap. Now that he didn't have his suit on, it would be harder to make a noise, but he rapped his knuckles anyway on his knee, hoping Loki could hear it wherever he was. '_Same. Where r u?'_

Thanos turned to him, frowning. CEASE YOUR FIDGETING, MORTAL, I AM ATTEMPTING TO DIRECT MY ARMY THROUGH YOUR DEFENSE.

Tony stilled when the alien's attention was turned on him, relaxing his fingers on his leg while he was being scrutinized. "You know how you get those awful itches that you can't scratch? Yeah. Not fun," he huffed, squirming in his seat. Great, now he really _was_ itchy.

Thanos turned his attention back towards the screen, completely dismissing the guest he had been chatting with so amiably only moments before. I DO NOT SUPPOSE YOU WILL GIVE ME A HINT ON HOW TO GET THROUGH? His right hand, however, belonged to him no longer.

"And sorry. No dice," Tony shrugged. He peered up to see if Thanos was still looking at him and discovered he had turned his attention away.

AH, Thanos answered, smiling at Tony with all the exhilaration of battle. THEN I SHALL HAVE TO FIND IT MYSELF. As if he didn't even notice the hand he wasn't using was tapping cheerily away at Tony, he moved his other like a conductor, and the swarm of space whales stopped and churned, wiggling around the Aegis as if combing it for weak spots.

Tony swelled with pride as the Aegis held, though never forgetting that it was fallible. He'd let Thanos figure that one out though; maybe he could bore Thanos to death (haha, oh puns) and they'd all give up and leave. He doubted it, but it was funny anyway. He went right back to what he was doing, watching the hand out the corner of his eye.

'_Nvrmnd me,'_ it tapped and drummed, quickly, hurriedly. '_Flee.'_

Brow wrinkling, Tony replied, tapping out a simple, '_No.'_ He hadn't come here to make friends with Thanos, that was for sure, and he wasn't leaving empty-handed. Though his chances of escape were much slimmer, now that his suit had been taken from him. He wouldn't be able to survive out in space even if he managed to find a way off the ship.

Eh, he wasn't worried. He'd think of something. He was Tony fucking Stark, after all.

'_Y,_' the hand tapped emphatically, '_I safe,_' and it was weird how Loki was abbreviating everything when he usually didn't even use contractions. '_Game of wils. Go._'

At the same time, shafts of Tesseract-blue light began rising from the surface of the planet, picking off the whales in groups of five or ten.

Thanos growled. YOU DARE USE MY OWN WEAPON AGAINST ME, EARTHLING? SUCH IMPUDENCE WILL BRING YOU AND YOURS ONLY DEATH. He flicked his hand, and the Leviathans began throwing themselves at the ethereal shield as if trying to break it by force.

"I'm pretty sure you wanted to kill us anyway, big guy," Tony tried not to snort. It was like watching a child not getting his way; a really, really powerful, dangerous child with a crush. At the same time, he was now having a little war of his own with his lover. _'N. Where r u?' _he repeated, '_Y?_' Why did Loki want him to leave? Tony was a stubborn mule, he wasn't moving anywhere. Even if he wasn't to. He had to at least make sure Loki could fend for himself, he was still blind as to what had happened (was happening?) between Thanos and Loki.

'_Ts head,_' Loki replied through the hand. '_Safe. U must go_.'

Tony was pretty sure Loki _wasn't_ in Thanos's head, but he let the half-assed explanation slide just this one. '_Stuk,'_ he tapped out, trying to move his bonds and yep, of course they didn't give an inch.

'_Dstrct T, I free u._' Thanos's hand tapped out. It added, '_Dstry T, free me,'_ as if in an afterthought. There was a pause, as if Loki had finished communicating. Then, in a rush, '_Pls. Go._' Emotional, somehow. Tony could tell.

_Distract Thanos._ He looked pretty distracted as he was. Tony didn't want to leave, but it that was how he could help Loki best...

Thanos was looking intently at the battle with all the concentration of a tactician, grinding his teeth as if he was a undergrad trying to solve a three body problem.

"Well, don't pop a vessel there, buddy," Tony said from beside the alien overlord. He fidgeted, making a show of squirming in his seat, "Hey, you sure you don't keep a urinal around here? Cause I could really use one right about now."

Thanos closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. VERY WELL. IF YOUR PATHETIC MORTAL BODY CANNOT LAST, YOU MAY GO. He made a gesture that freed Tony of his magical chains, and returned to being absorbed in the battle.

His right hand went tap, tap, tap, tap, and then tap and drum.

H-A.

Holy shit, he hadn't actually expected that to work. Dumbfounded, Tony found the restraints made of light had dissipated. He stood with haste, not wanted to waste the chance that Loki had _somehow_ given him. The God of Lies was more powerful than even Tony had realized, if he had somehow managed to influence the mind of someone like Thanos.

And said god _loved_ him.

With a renewed vigor, Tony scooted back the way he had come, already having mourned the loss of his Mark 39. He'd figure out a way, but first, he really just needed to get out of here. As much as he wanted to stay, he needed a suit or something, otherwise he was nothing but a liability to Loki and himself. If he could take down Thanos, Loki would return. So much for having the god around during the war but there was no time to mourn that as well.

At least he didn't have to worry about Loki physically being here, otherwise Tony might have been more inclined to stay and free him. As long as Thanos hadn't pulled any Matrix bullshit with Loki (_if he died in his consciousness, was he dead physically too?)_, Loki would be fine, but Tony couldn't know that.

All he could do was hoof it back to the only exit he knew and work from there, maybe find a ship and take it out for a spin. Only problem was the damn things were _alive_.

And then he discovered he still had his phone on him.

His phone with Wi-Fi.

Tony grinned madly.

* * *

Thanos chuckled darkly, directing his army in a concerted attack against the shield, this time with purpose.

The brute force attack had reaped benefits after all, although they could hardly be called _plentiful_ by any definition of the word.

Thanos found out that if he hit a section of Stark's shield at a rate of twenty times inside a second, one out of every ten of the Leviathans could pass through. He laughed, amused at his own cleverness of using something as basic and elemental as physical resonance to break the ethereal shield.

Thanos waved his hands at the glass wall in front of him, grinning madly, and organised his army to take advantage of the weakness he had found. IS THIS IMPROVISATION MORE TO YOUR LIKING, MAN OF IRON? he asked, looking towards the spot where the mortal was.

He wasn't there.

Right, he had allowed the mortal to roam, as he had been distracting Thanos from the glorious battle. The mortal was trapped without his suit, unable to travel or even exceed his short human limits. No time to look for him — he had more pressing interests.

Namely, the annihilation of the human race.

He turned back towards the wall, where he could see the dark side of the planet behind a layer of flickering light, his army disappearing into the ethereal shell that had only moments before seemed solid. With a cry of, DIE, LIFE-LOVING SIMPLETONS! Thanos continued gathering lives for his dear lady.

* * *

The words spread like wildfire all over Earth: the fearsome beasts had broken the shield, and were pouring in like rain.

Suddenly every mortal still on the streets and every Aesir was spurred into action.

The first line of defense, of course, were Stark's space guns. The sky lit with unearthly blue as Framrherrlae all over the world shot at the invading Leviathans.

Those who evaded the lances of light had to face with the myriad fighter jets shooting the miniaturized versions or even just standard tank-piercing shells.

Whole armies armed to the teeth and legions of Aesir awaited the few that arrived on the ground, tackling the scores of Chitauri that jumped off the backs of the Leviathans and began fighting back right away.

Thor was having a great time, despite his beloved planet being in danger. Nothing beat a good old fashioned fight. Sure, the weapons mortals had come up with, particularly those made by the Man of Iron, were a sight to behold, but, like Loki's tricks, took all the fighting out of the fight, and left the warriors standing uselessly on the sidelines.

Three Leviathans with full Chitauri contingents arrived about ten blocks away from Thor. Well, one of them crash-landed, but the drones it was carrying were safe enough to start causing havok right away, engaging in skirmishes with the local warriors.

"Thor!" Volstagg exclaimed. "Go forth! This lady here," he waved to a corporal behind the wheel of a jeep, "has offered me a ride to battle in her horseless chariot."

Thor nodded. "I shall see you there, my friend!" he shouted, and took to the skies, his cape billowing behind him.

He arrived at the scene to find the Chitauri engaged in battle with the mortals, two Leviathans thrashing and bringing down buildings around their ears. The third was already slain; testament to the power the small and seemingly harmless mortals would wield. Thor had been instructed not to summon a storm, because they needed the line of sight clear for the Framrherrlae, and it severely limited his use of lightning. He would have to wage war the old-fashioned way, with just the power of his arms and his control over Mjölnir to help him.

The prince of Asgard jumped into the fray, aiming for one of the Leviathans, for despite the armament of the humans they could not bring down a second and third one at the same time. A blow of his mighty hammer did little to deter the beast from gathering a tank in its huge jaws and chomping it and the humans inside into pieces. Thor attacked it yet again, and was met with like success.

Thor retreated and did not attack again. He wished not to desert a fight because his foe was invulnerable, but he had little choice. Mortals were more likely to find a way to slay this beast, and he could help speed that along by smiting the bothersome yet still powerful drones. Those would be easy pickings.

"DUCK!" a woman's voice yelled to his left.

Obeying was more habit that instinct, and Thor ducked. One did not survive long in the battlefield by not trusting one's brothers in arms to cover one's back. It was the right decision. He heard something whizz by over his head, and turned to see the other Leviathan, its mouth open to swallow Thor, receive an explosive right there where it was most vulnerable.

"That was a close shave, my friend," Volstagg said, clambering inelegantly off the jeep and nearly falling on his vast belly.

It was clear the woman who had driven him here had also been the one to fire the bazooka into the beast's mouth, for she still held the smoking device mounted on her shoulder

"Mortals are fierce, especially their women," Volstagg added in a more secretive tone once he was closer to Thor, his eyes shining with admiration.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt your catching up," said the woman they were talking about, "but we have a city to defend."

Thor took in her dark skin, shaved head (from what he could see under her cap at least) and coffee-colored eyes. Despite looking nothing like her, she reminded him of Sif. He grinned. "Apologies, Milady," he said, stopping short of doing a bow only because of Jane's teachings about chivalry and misogyny. "It is as you say. Pray tell, do you perchance have an idea to fell the cruel beast?"

She seemed unimpressed by his flowery language. "Yeah. Grab that," she pointed to a sheet of metal debris, jagged where it had torn, forming a sharp-looking point. "You see where the plates of its armor connect? Hammer it down there, near the spine."

Volstagg laughed. "A fine plan, Milady," he praised, walking over to the sheet of metal. He finished tearing it from the vehicle. "Ah, if only I had the power of flight," he said wistfully, handing it over to Thor and sending a furtive glance at the woman whose name they still did not know.

Thor knew how he felt. There was something about mortal women — mayhaps, he amended, thinking of Loki's Man of Iron, it was simply something about mortals in general — that was impossible to ignore. "Worry not, my friend. I am sure simply proving your valor will suffice to win her heart," he told Volstagg confidently, taking the metal weapon. "I need you to distract it."

His big-boned friend understood at once, and strode off into the battlefield, chucking a car at the beast that was terrorizing a jeep and yelling, "Oi, you ugly beast!" to call its attention.

Thor laughed. He sure had missed fighting along his shield brothers.

* * *

Rhodey could barely breath inside the War Machine suit, and not because the air filtration system was sketchy or anything. He was anxious, maybe even having an actual anxiety attack, which he had thought only Tony prone to.

Shit, thinking about Tony made it worse. He was so fucking worried — his best friend, and, dare he think it, _brother from another mother_, had gone up into space back before the battle had begun. And he was still up there, in the best case scenario, if he wasn't already dead. It had been close to seven hours since he had left Earth, and the whale things were _getting inside._

He was trapped up there,_ all alone_, and Rhodey was stuck on Earth watching the fireworks while he babysat the Framrherrlae tower Tony had installed in the old and unused Stark mansion.

"Colonel?" said a voice in his ear.

Rhodey jumped, turning around, his arms readying into a defensive stance.

Nothing.

"Colonel," Jarvis said again, "it's only me." He sounded amused.

Rhodey was going to have _words_ with Tony about when it was OK to code wiseassery into his AIs and when it wasn't. "Jarvis, fuck, you startled me. 'Sup?" he asked, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His high-strung state wasn't helping anyone, least of all himself.

"I have an anomaly to report, Colonel," Jarvis announced.

Shit. That was ominous. "An... anomaly," Rhodey parroted.

"Yes, Sir," Jarvis said patiently, _definitely not _sounding as though he thought Rhodey was particularly thick, which was a skill he had acquired after going through numerous hangovers with Tony.

Rhodey chuckled. "Fine, show me. This better be good, I'm missing a great light show."

The HUD went black, then loaded whatever video feed Jarvis was so intent on showing him.

Yeah, 'anomaly' might not be the right word.

Rhodey bent in half and laughed so hard his ribs hurt.

One of the whales was dancing, twirling around way up in the atmosphere, dislodging its charge of Chitauri, which flew away like a cloud of brick dust from a spinning tennis ball, scattering everywhere. Then it started, _hilariously,_ doing the 'I'm a little teapot' dance, meticulously going through all the steps.

Exactly the same way Tony had done, back in MIT, during his initiation into one of the fraternities he had been _determined _to be allowed into. They hadn't let him in, naturally, because Tony had been a real nerd back then, and also only thirteen. (Tony had laughed in their faces, telling them he had no need for their stupid fraternity anyway, that it had just been a social experiment. It was how Rhodey had met the kid.)

Then, even as he watched and cried with mirth, the whale finished the dance and _saluted,_ military style, its mouth open in a cry.

Rhodey didn't think he would stop laughing about this for the next five years, at least. He struggled for control of his breathing to tell Jarvis to let Tony in, but couldn't stop breaking out in fits of giggles.

But Jarvis was clever. "Shall I disconnect the Aegis and let Mr. Stark in, Colonel?" he offered.

Rhodey nodded. He wanted to add something, but he was too out of breath, and his mouth was stuck in a huge wide smile.

"I shall upload the footage on Youtube," Jarvis said tiredly, disconnecting the Aegis until his maker came through, and then re-establishing it, not that it did much anymore.

* * *

Tony always did things with style and that meant, even when he was hijacking an alien whale ship and escaping from one impending doom to another, he still looked like a badass.

The whale that he'd tapped into (_ooh it emits and receives wifi! what do you wanna bet I can hack it?_; all he'd needed was a smartphone) sailed down after being admitted entrance past the Aegis, the large form causing a bit of a panic down on the ground. Couldn't be helped. It's not like it wasn't the first whale to get in though; Thanos seemed to have cracked the mystery on how to get through his defense systems already.

Damn. That hadn't given him as much time as he'd wanted.

Tony swooped in, standing between the massive teeth of the massive whale beast (the mouth had been the only airtight place in it) as it lowered itself towards the balcony of his mansion, in which he had pinpointed Rhodey's location. The billionaire stepped onto the balustrade, one foot after the other with a quipped "Thank _you_," towards the obedient beast.

It moaned queerly in reply and floated down like a falling leaf, settling down on the gardens.

"Hey," Stark grinned at his best friend, all suited up and ready to go. "Rhodey, this is Flipper. Flipper, Rhodey. How are things down here?"

"I can't believe you, Tony," Rhodey said, grinning, only refraining from hugging him because he was wearing War Machine and didn't want to crush his friend.

No time to chit chat though. Tony could already see bits and pieces of Thanos's army leaking in; where one Framrherrlae would take down a beast, three more started trickling in.

One of the ugly creatures was already discharging its load of Chitauri soldiers into the nearby town before he saw a flash of brilliant light. The Framrherrlae beam had shot straight through the left half of its skull, and with a cry, the thing came down hard and took out an entire office building in its wake.

"This isn't enough," Tony shook his head, looking up at the sky, "He's getting in too fast." It took him all of about two seconds before he turned on Rhodey. There was a fire behind his eyes as he issued the order, "Jarvis."

"Sir?"

"Fire the Framrherrlae at the Aegis."

"What?!" Rhodey exclaimed, "Have you gone nuts?!"

"Twenty hertz, maximum power. Do it now!" Tony shouted.

"Always a pleasure, Sir." The AI redirected the weaponry across the world to aim towards the Aegis, ignoring the whale beasts that were beginning to pour in.

And when the first shot was fired, followed by the staccato of beams from each tower, it was the greatest light show the world had ever seen.

* * *

Back in Stark Tower, Bruce watched the live feed from one of Tony's armors in a monitor.

He was grinning like a madman.

The other screen to his left, the one with the newscast, had exploded when Tony — because, let's face it, who else could it be? — had returned in the blazing glory of a commandeered whale, the very picture of Captain Jack Sparrow stepping off the sinking ship in his first appearance.

The news reporters had gone nuts, though, when the next thing Tony did was shoot not at the whales, but at the _shield itself. _They had called him all sorts of crazy and traitor, sometimes with very unflattering words which Tony would no doubt find very flattering nonetheless, until they saw the effect of nearly one thousand Frannies shooting in concert, the rays hitting the Aegis at exactly twenty-one times per second.

Just as it had happened in the lab, the shield began glowing in the places where the Frannies impacted. The glow grew and grew until it was painful to look at even through the monitors, and then the chain reaction happened. Back in the lab, the explosion had been small, what with both the Aegis and the Frannie being prototypes, and it had still leveled one half of the lab. It would have killed them if Bruce hadn't Hulked out at precisely the right moment and shielded Tony from it.

On a worldwide scale, though...

The Aegis was suddenly one continuous white-hot explosion, turning everything in its wake to plasma. And since it was so big, the waves it made were miles wide, obliterating both the Leviathans that were just inside as all the other ones that had crowded onto the ethereal shield in an attempt to get in.

Bruce couldn't see outside, since the lab was internal, but he would bet New York looked like it was midday in the Sahara instead of a cloudy autumn morning.

* * *

Thanos screamed his fury, hitting the armrests with his fists.

_'You underestimated them_,' a voice said at the back of his mind. '_Do you think me so simple-minded as to ally myself with the same kind of artless automatons you yourself prefer?_'

LOKI, Thanos growled, his voice travelling beyond the physical and into the astral plane, resonating in all facets of reality. THIS IS YOUR DOING, he accused, slamming his hands on the mental wall that held the Trickster prisoner.

In his glass cage in Thanos's mind, Loki laughed, nearly bent double in amusement. The small hole he had managed to dig into the wall to control Thanos's fingers and communicate with his clever lover had disappeared by now, having gotten smaller by the second as he lost his concentration.

From the fury he could see rolling off the Titan like smoke, Loki knew that not only was Tony free, he had also found a way to defeat Thanos's army in one fell swoop. Thanos was an idiot for underestimating him. For underestimating _both of them_.

'_Flattered as I am to be considered so omnipotent by one such as yourself,_' Loki replied, walking over to the wall with the serene air of someone untouchable, confident in the knowledge that Thanos would not dare shatter the walls to get to him and thus unwittingly set him free, '_I must confess I cannot take credit._'

Thanos scoffed distastefully. YOU DO NOT EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THE MORTALS ARRANGED THIS BY THEMSELVES?

'_Not the mortal_s_, no,_' Loki replied, stressing the plural, the corner of his metaphysical mouth curling up into a smug smirk. He matched Thanos's stance on the other side of the cage, despite being so much smaller in size, and met the Titan's eyes. '_Though I have learned not to underestimate them, for they are wily and resilient like cockroaches._'

JUST ONE, THEN? Thanos asked, still skeptical. YOUR MORTAL, THE MAN OF IRON, I PRESUME? He frowned. BUT MORTALS ARE HARMLESS.

Ha! The notion of anyone ever accusing Tony of being harmless was as preposterous as it was amusing. '_He tricked me once, too,_' Loki confided, grinning. '_And I had very little input in the design of Earth's defense._'

IMPOSSIBLE. Thanos's hands slammed into the mental wall. YOU LIE. His eyes narrowed under the shadow of his helmet.

Loki rolled his metaphysical eyes. Why was it that everyone accused him of lying when they didn't like something he said? It was when he said the things they did want to hear that they should be wary. '_I do not. In fact, the mortal you carelessly allowed free reign of your battleship is none other than the one who flew through the portal with the weapon that massacred the pathetic excuse for an army you gave me._' He flashed a triumphant, mocking smile. '_He is called the Merchant of Death by his own people_.'

The glass between them vanished abruptly.

Fearing he had finally spoken too much, Loki took a step back. He was too weak to escape yet, having used the very last of his mental resources on making that single tenuous link to communicate with his lover.

Thanos lunged for Loki, grabbing him by the neck and squeezing. IF I CANNOT GIVE MY BELOVED THE LIVES OF THIS PLANET AS A GIFT, he growled, a mad glint in his eyes, I SHALL GIVE HER THAT OF A GOD: YOU.

Loki's eyes widened. '_Oh, shi_—'

* * *

Nick Fury was one very happy camper.

He couldn't help the jaunty smirk at what he was seeing on the screens. Leviathans, obliterated like flies confronted with a can of Raid when crossing the Aegis barrier, the few stragglers that did manage to get through picked off by towers of light or the efforts of armies worldwide.

This was it. They had won, just like that.

Not a single shelter had been touched. The cities were mostly intact as well, just some minimal damage where more than one space whale had managed to land and be a handful, but even then it was just a couple demolished buildings here and there. They hadn't targeted the electric centrals or the oil ducts, just the important cities, like Loki had predicted.

Wily bastard. And to think the asshole got to nap through the whole thing.

Shaking his head, Fury murmured to himself, "Well, I suppose some champagne is in order," and got up to seek out the comm tech and set up a conference with the UN and the still hidden WSC to announce their victory. Just as he was reaching the door, it opened by itself.

Maria Hill came in, looking harried. "Sir, there is a problem."

Nick raised his eyebrow at her. "What now?"

She made a strange face. "It seems the Tesseract is... 'not cooperating', I believe were the words used." She gave Fury a deadpan look. "Apparently, our power source is going on strike."

The Director of SHIELD looked at her, blinking. "What?"

Hill shrugged. "I am only relaying the message, Sir. The Framrherrlae have ceased shooting, and the Aegis has fallen."

Without a word, Fury turned back to his monitors. Indeed, the night sky was dark again, although there were hints of sunrise on the horizon already. Things were quiet, though, no Leviathans on the scene, bar those who had already got through and were sauntering vaguely downwards to be exterminated on the ground.

He shrugged. "It's fine. No more motherfucking space whales to stop."

Hill shook her head, fiddling with something on the remote.

The screens stopped showing the live feed. Nick thought she had turned them off, for a second, before his eyes adjusted and he saw that the feed was some telescope's view of a giant-ass spaceship. When his eyes adjusted further, he saw that the spaceship was, for all intents and purposes, _shitting_ another contingent of Leviathans.

And here Earth was shield-less and lance-less.

He turned towards Hill, opening his mouth.

"Nukes?" she asked before he could talk.

Fury nodded. "Nukes. See if you can use Foster's portal to send them."

She nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The Director grabbed a mug of burnt coffee and sat back down, leaning back on the chair.

One hour later, reports were coming from all over the world that the last of the whales had been defeated. On the screen, the second wave was still forming up.

Then the missiles reached the mothership.

* * *

T.B.C. on Monday 16th (if we finish it)

Scene from next chapter:

_Loki struggled to his feet, clutching the windowsill to use as a stand and pulling himself up. He was so disoriented, and the lights were too bright. His head felt like someone had scooped out his brain and replaced it with wool._

_He saw movement out the corner of his eyes, and he focused them there. _

_A Leviathan was out there, circling around the entrance to the hospital. Sickly-looking children were running away from it, screaming. _

_Loki dropped under the windowsill, taking cover. 'No!' he thought. 'They won.'_

* * *

**End notes:**

Hope this was long and satisfying enough, because next chapter isn't ready :( Okay, it's over 6500 words, but we didn't stop in a place where we could cut it, so yeah. *Bows* Please forgive us.

On another note! The frostiron bang is live :D I get to post on the 20th, but there's already amazing fic out! Go and enjoy it!

_Flames tolerated, reviews wanted, criticism craved._

_~DerrDoktor and Pluma Desatada_


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